Quote
"After all, the best part of a holiday is perhaps not so much to be resting yourself, as to see all the other fellows busy working."
T
The Wind in the Willows"Its never the wrong time to call on Toad. Early or late hes always the same fellow. Always good-tempered, always glad to see you, always sorry when you go!"
The Wind in the Willows is a children's novel by the British novelist Kenneth Grahame, first published in 1908. It tells the story of Mole, Ratty and Badger as they try to help Mr. Toad after he becomes obsessed with motorcars and gets into trouble. It also contains short stories about them that are disconnected from the main narrative. The novel was based on bedtime stories that Grahame told his
"After all, the best part of a holiday is perhaps not so much to be resting yourself, as to see all the other fellows busy working."
"There is nothing — absolutely nothing — half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. In or out of ‘em, it doesn’t matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that’s the charm of it. Whether you get away, or whether you don’t; whether you arrive at your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get anywhere at all, you’re always busy, and you never do anything in particular; and when you’ve done it there’s always something else to do."
"Weasels — and stoats — and foxes — and so on. Theyre all right in a way — Im very good friends with them — pass the time of day when we meet, and all that — but they break out sometimes, theres no denying it, and then — well, you cant really trust them, and thats the fact."
"Beyond the Wild Wood comes the Wide World, said the Rat. And thats something that doesnt matter, either to you or me. Ive never been there, and Im never going, nor you either, if youve got any sense at all."
"I beg your pardon, said the Mole, pulling himself together with an effort. You must think me very rude; but all this is so new to me. So — this — is — a — River! The River, corrected the Rat."
"The Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring-cleaning his little home. First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders and steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash; till he had dust in his throat and eyes, and splashes of whitewash all over his black fur, and an aching back and weary arms. Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing. It was small wonder, then, that he suddenly flung down his brush on the floor, said “Bother!” and “O blow!” and also “Hang spring-cleaning!” and bolted out of the house without even waiting to put on his coat."