Kenneth Grahame

"The Boy made his way back to the village in a state of great despondency. First of all, there wasnt going to be any fight; next, his dear and honoured friend the dragon hadnt shown up in quite such a heroic light as he would have liked; and lastly, whether the dragon was a hero at heart or not, it made no difference, for St. George would most undoubtedly cut his head off."

"The dreadful beast must be exterminated, the country-side must be freed from this pest, this terror, this destroying scourge. The fact that not even a hen roost was the worse for the dragons arrival wasnt allowed to have anything to do with it. He was a dragon, and he couldnt deny it, and if he didnt choose to behave as such that was his own lookout. But in spite of much valiant talk no hero was found willing to take sword and spear and free the suffering village and win deathless fame; and each nights heated discussion always ended in nothing. Meanwhile the dragon, a happy Bohemian, lolled on the turf, enjoyed the sunsets, told antediluvian anecdotes to the Boy, and polished his old verses while meditating on fresh ones."

"After refreshment St. George made a speech, in which he informed his audience that he had removed their direful scourge, at a great deal of trouble and inconvenience to himself, and now they werent to go about grumbling and fancying theyd got grievances, because they hadnt. And they shouldnt be so fond of fights, because next time they might have to do the fighting themselves, which would not be the same thing at all."

"The dramatic possibilities of the thing had tickled the dragon immensely, and he had been up from an early hour, preparing for his first public appearance with as much heartiness as if the years had run backwards, and he had been again a little dragonlet, playing with his sisters on the floor of their mothers cave, at the game of saints-and-dragons, in which the dragon was bound to win. A low muttering, mingled with snorts, now made itself heard; rising to a bellowing roar that seemed to fill the plain. Then a cloud of smoke obscured the mouth of the cave, and out of the midst of it the dragon himself, shining, sea-blue, magnificent, pranced splendidly forth; and everybody said, "Oo-oo-oo!" as if he had been a mighty rocket! His scales were glittering, his long spiky tail lashed his sides, his claws tore up the turf and sent it flying high over his back, and smoke and fire incessantly jetted from his angry nostrils. "Oh, well done, dragon!" cried the Boy, excitedly. "Didnt think he had it in him!" he added to himself."

"Dont, for goodness sake, keep on saying Dont; I hear so much of it, and its monotonous, and makes me tired."

"Our villagers are the biggest story-tellers in all the country round. Its a known fact. Youre a stranger in these parts, or else youd have heard it already. All they want is a fight. Theyre the most awful beggars for getting up fights — its meat and drink to them. … Ive no doubt theyve been telling you what a hero you were, and how you were bound to win, in the cause of right and justice, and so on; but let me tell you, I came down the street just now, and they were betting six to four on the dragon freely!" "Six to four on the dragon!" murmured St. George sadly, resting his cheek on his hand. "This is an evil world, and sometimes I begin to think that all the wickedness in it is not entirely bottled up inside the dragons..."