Mary Webb

I thought she had a good heart, though not much respectability- or maybe it was because of that.

She had so deep a kinship with the trees, so intuitive a sympathy with leaf and flower, that it seemed as if the blood in her veins was not slow-moving human blood, but volatile sap.

Nature's music is never over; her silences are pauses, not conclusions.

Saddle your dreams before you ride em.

Saddle your dreams afore you ride 'em.

It's the folks that depend on us for this and for the other that we most do miss.

It made me gladsome to be getting some education it being like a big window opening.

Beguildy looked at me over the rim of a great measure of mead. 'Saddle your dreams afore you ride 'em, my wench,' he said.