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Rainy daysI like a rainy day better than most people seem to. Rain gives you a reason to stay in and finish the things a sunny day talks you out of. The light is soft, the street is quiet, and tea tastes better. A sunny day asks something of you. A rainy day asks nothing. (Written for this page)

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Each book passage was copied by script from a Project Gutenberg text and compared with it again afterward. It is one whole paragraph, or the opening sentences of one, from a work first published before 1931. Spelling follows the book, so some of it is British.

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All 158 paragraphs

From a book 110

A cottage near Rio During the remainder of my stay at Rio, I resided in a cottage at Botofogo Bay. It was impossible to wish for anything more delightful than thus to spend some weeks in so magnificent a country. In England any person fond of natural history enjoys in his walks a great advantage, by always having something to attract his attention; but in these fertile climates, teeming with life, the attractions are so numerous, that he is scarcely able to walk at all. (Charles Darwin, The Voyage of the Beagle, 1839)
A drive at sunrise We made our way downstairs as quietly as possible, and out into the bright morning sunshine. In the road stood our horse and trap, with the half-clad stable-boy waiting at the head. We both sprang in, and away we dashed down the London Road. A few country carts were stirring, bearing in vegetables to the metropolis, but the lines of villas on either side were as silent and lifeless as some city in a dream. (Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, 1892)
A hound, a horse I long ago lost a hound, a bay horse, and a turtle-dove, and am still on their trail. Many are the travellers I have spoken concerning them, describing their tracks and what calls they answered to. I have met one or two who had heard the hound, and the tramp of the horse, and even seen the dove disappear behind a cloud, and they seemed as anxious to recover them as if they had lost them themselves. (Henry David Thoreau, Walden, 1854)

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From a book, continued

A house in Kansas Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer’s wife. Their house was small, for the lumber to build it had to be carried by wagon many miles. There were four walls, a floor and a roof, which made one room; and this room contained a rusty looking cookstove, a cupboard for the dishes, a table, three or four chairs, and the beds. (L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, 1900)
A perfect day The day was perfect. A breeze from the north drove little puffs of white cloud across an ultramarine sky, with a bright sea running under it. Bellevue Avenue was empty at that hour, and after dropping the stable-lad at the corner of Mill Street Archer turned down the Old Beach Road and drove across Eastman's Beach. (Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence, 1920)
A place to camp In search of a place proper for this, I found a little plain on the side of a rising hill, whose front towards this little plain was steep as a house-side, so that nothing could come down upon me from the top. On the one side of the rock there was a hollow place, worn a little way in, like the entrance or door of a cave but there was not really any cave or way into the rock at all. (Daniel Defoe, Robinson Crusoe, 1719)
A popular visitor All those two days and a half that the Doctor stayed at the little fishing-town the people kept asking him out to teas and luncheons and dinners and parties; all the ladies sent him boxes of flowers and candies; and the village-band played tunes under his window every night. (Hugh Lofting, The Story of Doctor Dolittle, 1920)
A reading lesson outdoors One afternoon we were having our reading lesson on the warm, grassy bank where the badger lived. It was a day of amber sunlight, but there was a shiver of coming winter in the air. I had seen ice on the little horsepond that morning, and as we went through the garden we found the tall asparagus, with its red berries, lying on the ground, a mass of slimy green. (Willa Cather, My Ántonia, 1918)
A sundial for wind There was an astronomer, who had undertaken to place a sun-dial upon the great weathercock on the town-house, by adjusting the annual and diurnal motions of the earth and sun, so as to answer and coincide with all accidental turnings of the wind. (Jonathan Swift, Gulliver's Travels, 1726)
A swim before breakfast George said it was so pleasant to wake up in the boat in the fresh morning, and plunge into the limpid river. Harris said there was nothing like a swim before breakfast to give you an appetite. He said it always gave him an appetite. George said that if it was going to make Harris eat more than Harris ordinarily ate, then he should protest against Harris having a bath at all. (Jerome K. Jerome, Three Men in a Boat, 1889)
A town in snow By nine o’clock of that evening snow lay deep in the streets and the weather had become bitter cold. It was difficult to walk about. The stores were dark and the people had crawled away to their houses. The evening train from Cleveland was very late but nobody was interested in its arrival. By ten o’clock all but four of the eighteen hundred citizens of the town were in bed. (Sherwood Anderson, Winesburg, Ohio, 1919)
A village under snow The village lay under two feet of snow, with drifts at the windy corners. In a sky of iron the points of the Dipper hung like icicles and Orion flashed his cold fires. The moon had set, but the night was so transparent that the white house-fronts between the elms looked gray against the snow, clumps of bushes made black stains on it, and the basement windows of the church sent shafts of yellow light far across the endless undulations. (Edith Wharton, Ethan Frome, 1911)
A wall of china The four travelers walked with ease through the trees until they came to the farther edge of the wood. Then, to their surprise, they found before them a high wall which seemed to be made of white china. It was smooth, like the surface of a dish, and higher than their heads. (L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, 1900)
A warm kitchen When he re-entered the kitchen the lamp lit up the same scene of shining comfort as on the previous evening. The table had been as carefully laid, a clear fire glowed in the stove, the cat dozed in its warmth, and Mattie came forward carrying a plate of dough-nuts. (Edith Wharton, Ethan Frome, 1911)
A windy town One January day, thirty years ago, the little town of Hanover, anchored on a windy Nebraska tableland, was trying not to be blown away. A mist of fine snowflakes was curling and eddying about the cluster of low drab buildings huddled on the gray prairie, under a gray sky. (Willa Cather, O Pioneers!, 1913)
Across the island I had crossed a marshy tract full of willows, bulrushes, and odd, outlandish, swampy trees; and I had now come out upon the skirts of an open piece of undulating, sandy country, about a mile long, dotted with a few pines and a great number of contorted trees, not unlike the oak in growth, but pale in the foliage, like willows. On the far side of the open stood one of the hills, with two quaint, craggy peaks shining vividly in the sun. (Robert Louis Stevenson, Treasure Island, 1883)
Alice on the bank Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, “and what is the use of a book,” thought Alice “without pictures or conversations?” (Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, 1865)
All children grow up All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, “Oh, why can’t you remain like this for ever!” (J. M. Barrie, Peter Pan, 1911)
Alone at Walden Pond When I wrote the following pages, or rather the bulk of them, I lived alone, in the woods, a mile from any neighbor, in a house which I had built myself, on the shore of Walden Pond, in Concord, Massachusetts, and earned my living by the labor of my hands only. I lived there two years and two months. At present I am a sojourner in civilized life again. (Henry David Thoreau, Walden, 1854)
An August evening The grey warm evening of August had descended upon the city and a mild warm air, a memory of summer, circulated in the streets. The streets, shuttered for the repose of Sunday, swarmed with a gaily coloured crowd. Like illumined pearls the lamps shone from the summits of their tall poles upon the living texture below which, changing shape and hue unceasingly, sent up into the warm grey evening air an unchanging unceasing murmur. (James Joyce, Dubliners, 1914)
An early spring morning The next morning was one of those quickening mornings which we sometimes have in early spring, for it was about the middle of March. The chills of a long winter had suddenly given way; the north wind had spent its last gasp; and a mild air came stealing from the west, breathing the breath of life into Nature, and wooing every bud and flower to burst forth into fragrance and beauty. (Washington Irving, The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent., 1819)
An empty house Surely no other little girl ever spent such a queer morning. It seemed as if there was no one in all the huge rambling house but her own small self, wandering about upstairs and down, through narrow passages and wide ones, where it seemed to her that no one but herself had ever walked. Since so many rooms had been built, people must have lived in them, but it all seemed so empty that she could not quite believe it true. (Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden, 1911)
The Andes The appearance of the Andes was different from that which I had expected. The lower line of the snow was of course horizontal, and to this line the even summits of the range seemed quite parallel. Only at long intervals, a group of points or a single cone showed where a volcano had existed, or does now exist. Hence the range resembled a great solid wall, surmounted here and there by a tower, and making a most perfect barrier to the country. (Charles Darwin, The Voyage of the Beagle, 1839)
The Avonlea school The Avonlea school was a whitewashed building, low in the eaves and wide in the windows, furnished inside with comfortable substantial old-fashioned desks that opened and shut, and were carved all over their lids with the initials and hieroglyphics of three generations of school children. The schoolhouse was set back from the road and behind it was a dusky fir wood and a brook where all the children put their bottles of milk in the morning to keep cool and sweet until dinner hour. (L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables, 1908)
The beach of seals Nobody comes to Novastoshnah except on business, and the only people who have regular business there are the seals. They come in the summer months by hundreds and hundreds of thousands out of the cold gray sea. For Novastoshnah Beach has the finest accommodation for seals of any place in all the world. (Rudyard Kipling, The Jungle Book, 1894)
Beds on the ship As soon as they were on the ship, Gub-Gub, the pig, asked where the beds were, for it was four o’clock in the afternoon and he wanted his nap. So Polynesia took him downstairs into the inside of the ship and showed him the beds, set all on top of one another like book-shelves against a wall. (Hugh Lofting, The Story of Doctor Dolittle, 1920)
Beth and the mail Beth was postmistress, for, being most at home, she could attend to it regularly, and dearly liked the daily task of unlocking the little door and distributing the mail. One July day she came in with her hands full, and went about the house leaving letters and parcels like the penny post. (Louisa May Alcott, Little Women, 1868)
Blossom at the window A huge cherry-tree grew outside, so close that its boughs tapped against the house, and it was so thick-set with blossoms that hardly a leaf was to be seen. On both sides of the house was a big orchard, one of apple-trees and one of cherry-trees, also showered over with blossoms; and their grass was all sprinkled with dandelions. In the garden below were lilac-trees purple with flowers, and their dizzily sweet fragrance drifted up to the window on the morning wind. (L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables, 1908)
The boat too big When I had gone through this work I was extremely delighted with it. The boat was really much bigger than ever I saw a canoe or periagua, that was made of one tree, in my life. Many a weary stroke it had cost, you may be sure; and had I gotten it into the water, I make no question, but I should have begun the maddest voyage, and the most unlikely to be performed, that ever was undertaken. (Daniel Defoe, Robinson Crusoe, 1719)
Born on a Friday Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday, at twelve o’clock at night. It was remarked that the clock began to strike, and I began to cry, simultaneously. (Charles Dickens, David Copperfield, 1850)
Breakfast by the campfire When the last crisp slice of bacon was gone, and the last allowance of corn pone devoured, the boys stretched themselves out on the grass, filled with contentment. They could have found a cooler place, but they would not deny themselves such a romantic feature as the roasting campfire. (Mark Twain, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, 1876)
Breakfast by the window As soon as he was dressed, he went into the library and sat down to a light French breakfast that had been laid out for him on a small round table close to the open window. It was an exquisite day. The warm air seemed laden with spices. A bee flew in and buzzed round the blue-dragon bowl that, filled with sulphur-yellow roses, stood before him. He felt perfectly happy. (Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray, 1891)
Breakfast with hedgehogs In accordance with the kindly Badger’s injunctions, the two tired animals came down to breakfast very late next morning, and found a bright fire burning in the kitchen, and two young hedgehogs sitting on a bench at the table, eating oatmeal porridge out of wooden bowls. The hedgehogs dropped their spoons, rose to their feet, and ducked their heads respectfully as the two entered. (Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, 1908)
Buck and the newspapers Buck did not read the newspapers, or he would have known that trouble was brewing, not alone for himself, but for every tide-water dog, strong of muscle and with warm, long hair, from Puget Sound to San Diego. Because men, groping in the Arctic darkness, had found a yellow metal, and because steamship and transportation companies were booming the find, thousands of men were rushing into the Northland. (Jack London, The Call of the Wild, 1903)
Building the chimney Before winter I built a chimney, and shingled the sides of my house, which were already impervious to rain, with imperfect and sappy shingles made of the first slice of the log, whose edges I was obliged to straighten with a plane. (Henry David Thoreau, Walden, 1854)
By the kitchen fire I thanked him and ran home again, and there I found that Joe had already locked the front door and vacated the state parlour, and was seated by the kitchen fire with a hand on each knee, gazing intently at the burning coals. I too sat down before the fire and gazed at the coals, and nothing was said for a long time. (Charles Dickens, Great Expectations, 1861)
Cab in the fog Once on a dark winter's day, when the yellow fog hung so thick and heavy in the streets of London that the lamps were lighted and the shop windows blazed with gas as they do at night, an odd-looking little girl sat in a cab with her father and was driven rather slowly through the big thoroughfares. (Frances Hodgson Burnett, A Little Princess, 1905)
Camp fire under firs The trees round about them seem as perfect in beauty and form as the lilies, their boughs whorled like lily leaves in exact order. This evening, as usual, the glow of our camp-fire is working enchantment on everything within reach of its rays. Lying beneath the firs, it is glorious to see them dipping their spires in the starry sky, the sky like one vast lily meadow in bloom! How can I close my eyes on so precious a night? (John Muir, My First Summer in the Sierra, 1911)
The cat did it Every one said afterward that it was the cat that did it. Certainly, if Fluffy had not poked an insistent paw and nose against Pollyanna's unlatched door, the door would not have swung noiselessly open on its hinges until it stood perhaps a foot ajar; and if the door had not been open, Pollyanna would not have heard her aunt's words. (Eleanor H. Porter, Pollyanna, 1913)
Clearing the warehouse Clear away! There was nothing they wouldn't have cleared away, or couldn't have cleared away, with old Fezziwig looking on. It was done in a minute. Every movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from public life for evermore; the floor was swept and watered, the lamps were trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire; and the warehouse was as snug, and warm, and dry, and bright a ball-room, as you would desire to see upon a winter's night. (Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol, 1843)
The clock strikes twelve To his great astonishment the heavy bell went on from six to seven, and from seven to eight, and regularly up to twelve; then stopped. Twelve! It was past two when he went to bed. The clock was wrong. An icicle must have got into the works. Twelve! (Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol, 1843)
Cloudland Cloudland to-day is only a solitary white mountain; but it is so enriched with sunshine and shade, the tones of color on its big domed head and bossy outbulging ridges, and in the hollows and ravines between them, are ineffably fine. (John Muir, My First Summer in the Sierra, 1911)
The coach to London The journey from our town to the metropolis was a journey of about five hours. It was a little past midday when the four-horse stage-coach by which I was a passenger, got into the ravel of traffic frayed out about the Cross Keys, Wood Street, Cheapside, London. (Charles Dickens, Great Expectations, 1861)
Cold wind in June The wind, being in that cold quarter the north-west, blew nearly in our faces as we went. It was the month of June; the grass was all white with daisies, and the trees with blossom; but, to judge by our blue nails and aching wrists, the time might have been winter and the whiteness a December frost. (Robert Louis Stevenson, Kidnapped, 1886)
The crags at sunset The abrupt descent of Penistone Crags particularly attracted her notice; especially when the setting sun shone on it and the topmost heights, and the whole extent of landscape besides lay in shadow. I explained that they were bare masses of stone, with hardly enough earth in their clefts to nourish a stunted tree. (Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights, 1847)
Days as a colt While I was young I lived upon my mother's milk, as I could not eat grass. In the daytime I ran by her side, and at night I lay down close by her. When it was hot we used to stand by the pond in the shade of the trees, and when it was cold we had a nice warm shed near the grove. (Anna Sewell, Black Beauty, 1877)
Emma Woodhouse Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her. (Jane Austen, Emma, 1815)
Evening at the cave It was seven o’clock of a very warm evening in the Seeonee hills when Father Wolf woke up from his day’s rest, scratched himself, yawned, and spread out his paws one after the other to get rid of the sleepy feeling in their tips. Mother Wolf lay with her big gray nose dropped across her four tumbling, squealing cubs, and the moon shone into the mouth of the cave where they all lived. (Rudyard Kipling, The Jungle Book, 1894)
Evening on the farm The sun was dropping low in the west when the two friends rose and took the path again. The straw-stacks were throwing long shadows, the owls were flying home to the prairie-dog town. When they came to the corner where the pastures joined, Alexandra’s twelve young colts were galloping in a drove over the brow of the hill. (Willa Cather, O Pioneers!, 1913)
Everything falls Let us draw a lesson from nature, which always works by short ways. When the fruit is ripe, it falls. When the fruit is despatched, the leaf falls. The circuit of the waters is mere falling. The walking of man and all animals is a falling forward. All our manual labor and works of strength, as prying, splitting, digging, rowing and so forth, are done by dint of continual falling, and the globe, earth, moon, comet, sun, star, fall for ever and ever. (Ralph Waldo Emerson, Essays: First Series, 1841)
Five in the morning Have you ever been up at five o'clock on a fine summer morning? It is very beautiful. The sunlight is pinky and yellowy, and all the grass and trees are covered with dew-diamonds. And all the shadows go the opposite way to the way they do in the evening, which is very interesting and makes you feel as though you were in a new other world. (E. Nesbit, Five Children and It, 1902)
Fog at Baker Street It was a cold morning of the early spring, and we sat after breakfast on either side of a cheery fire in the old room at Baker Street. A thick fog rolled down between the lines of dun-coloured houses, and the opposing windows loomed like dark, shapeless blurs through the heavy yellow wreaths. (Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, 1892)
Fog over the mire I have said that over the great Grimpen Mire there hung a dense, white fog. It was drifting slowly in our direction and banked itself up like a wall on that side of us, low but thick and well defined. The moon shone on it, and it looked like a great shimmering ice-field, with the heads of the distant tors as rocks borne upon its surface. Holmes’s face was turned towards it, and he muttered impatiently as he watched its sluggish drift. (Arthur Conan Doyle, The Hound of the Baskervilles, 1902)
The forest at Windsor We quitted London on the 27th of March and remained a few days at Windsor, rambling in its beautiful forest. This was a new scene to us mountaineers; the majestic oaks, the quantity of game, and the herds of stately deer were all novelties to us. (Mary Shelley, Frankenstein, 1818)
The forgotten room The forgotten room opened out of the kitchen. In the agitation and half darkness the night before its door had been mistaken for a cupboard's. It was a little square room, and on its table, all nicely set out, was a joint of cold roast beef, with bread, butter, cheese, and a pie. (E. Nesbit, The Railway Children, 1906)
Frozen water pitchers The next day commenced as before, getting up and dressing by rushlight; but this morning we were obliged to dispense with the ceremony of washing; the water in the pitchers was frozen. A change had taken place in the weather the preceding evening, and a keen north-east wind, whistling through the crevices of our bedroom windows all night long, had made us shiver in our beds, and turned the contents of the ewers to ice. (Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre, 1847)
The frozen waterway Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway. The trees had been stripped by a recent wind of their white covering of frost, and they seemed to lean towards each other, black and ominous, in the fading light. A vast silence reigned over the land. (Jack London, White Fang, 1906)
Garden or swamp Yes, though you may think me perverse, if it were proposed to me to dwell in the neighborhood of the most beautiful garden that ever human art contrived, or else of a dismal swamp, I should certainly decide for the swamp. How vain, then, have been all your labors, citizens, for me! (Henry David Thoreau, Walking, 1862)
The gravel-pit The gravel-pit is very large and wide, with grass growing round the edges at the top, and dry stringy wildflowers, purple and yellow. It is like a giant's wash-hand basin. And there are mounds of gravel, and holes in the sides of the basin where gravel has been taken out, and high up in the steep sides there are the little holes that are the little front doors of the little sand-martins' little houses. (E. Nesbit, Five Children and It, 1902)
The harbor at dusk Ah, this was lovely, thought Scrap with a sigh of relief. How cool. How good it smelt. She could see the quiet water of the little harbour through the pine trunks, and the lights coming out in the houses on the other side, and all round her the green dusk was splashed by the rose-pink of the gladioluses in the grass and the white of the crowding daisies. (Elizabeth von Arnim, The Enchanted April, 1922)
Her own garden Phyllis had planted mignonette and nasturtium and Virginia Stock in hers. The seeds came up, and though they looked just like weeds, Phyllis believed that they would bear flowers some day. The Virginia Stock justified her faith quite soon, and her garden was gay with a band of bright little flowers, pink and white and red and mauve. (E. Nesbit, The Railway Children, 1906)
Home in winter twilight Anne came dancing home in the purple winter twilight across the snowy places. Afar in the southwest was the great shimmering, pearl-like sparkle of an evening star in a sky that was pale golden and ethereal rose over gleaming white spaces and dark glens of spruce. The tinkles of sleigh bells among the snowy hills came like elfin chimes through the frosty air, but their music was not sweeter than the song in Anne’s heart and on her lips. (L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables, 1908)
Houses from the roof There was a most ingenious architect, who had contrived a new method for building houses, by beginning at the roof, and working downward to the foundation; which he justified to me, by the like practice of those two prudent insects, the bee and the spider. (Jonathan Swift, Gulliver's Travels, 1726)
Huck introduces himself You don’t know about me without you have read a book by the name of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; but that ain’t no matter. That book was made by Mr. Mark Twain, and he told the truth, mainly. There was things which he stretched, but mainly he told the truth. (Mark Twain, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, 1884)
Inside the cyclone The north and south winds met where the house stood, and made it the exact center of the cyclone. In the middle of a cyclone the air is generally still, but the great pressure of the wind on every side of the house raised it up higher and higher, until it was at the very top of the cyclone; and there it remained and was carried miles and miles away as easily as you could carry a feather. (L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, 1900)
The island that moved Noted a big change in the river, at Island 21. It was a very large island, and used to be out toward mid-stream; but it is joined fast to the main shore now, and has retired from business as an island. (Mark Twain, Life on the Mississippi, 1883)
The Kaatskill mountains Whoever has made a voyage up the Hudson must remember the Kaatskill mountains. They are a dismembered branch of the great Appalachian family, and are seen away to the west of the river, swelling up to a noble height, and lording it over the surrounding country. (Washington Irving, The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent., 1819)
The lake in May Toward May, the lake begins to open. The hot sun sends down innumerable streams over the cliffs, streaking them round and round with foam. The snow slowly vanishes, and the meadows show tintings of green. Then spring comes on apace; flowers and flies enrich the air and the sod, and the deer come back to the upper groves like birds to an old nest. (John Muir, The Mountains of California, 1894)
The lazy Camel In the beginning of years, when the world was so new and all, and the Animals were just beginning to work for Man, there was a Camel, and he lived in the middle of a Howling Desert because he did not want to work; and besides, he was a Howler himself. So he ate sticks and thorns and tamarisks and milkweed and prickles, most ‘scruciating idle; and when anybody spoke to him he said ‘Humph!’ Just ‘Humph!’ and no more. (Rudyard Kipling, Just So Stories, 1902)
The limestone house The Richmond house was built of limestone, and, although it was said in the village to have become run down, had in reality grown more beautiful with every passing year. Already time had begun a little to color the stone, lending a golden richness to its surface and in the evening or on dark days touching the shaded places beneath the eaves with wavering patches of browns and blacks. (Sherwood Anderson, Winesburg, Ohio, 1919)
London in the fog I landed in London on a wintry autumn evening. It was dark and raining, and I saw more fog and mud in a minute than I had seen in a year. I walked from the Custom House to the Monument before I found a coach; and although the very house-fronts, looking on the swollen gutters, were like old friends to me, I could not but admit that they were very dingy friends. (Charles Dickens, David Copperfield, 1850)
The loose box The first stall was a large square one, shut in behind with a wooden gate; the others were common stalls, good stalls, but not nearly so large; it had a low rack for hay and a low manger for corn; it was called a loose box, because the horse that was put into it was not tied up, but left loose, to do as he liked. It is a great thing to have a loose box. (Anna Sewell, Black Beauty, 1877)
Mermaids going home The last sound Peter heard before he was quite alone were the mermaids retiring one by one to their bedchambers under the sea. He was too far away to hear their doors shut; but every door in the coral caves where they live rings a tiny bell when it opens or closes (as in all the nicest houses on the mainland), and he heard the bells. (J. M. Barrie, Peter Pan, 1911)
The moon over mountains The moon rose at last and found us still on the road; it was in its last quarter, and was long beset with clouds; but after awhile shone out and showed me many dark heads of mountains, and was reflected far underneath us on the narrow arm of a sea-loch. (Robert Louis Stevenson, Kidnapped, 1886)
Morning at the window The little room was cooler now, and the air blew in fresh and sweet. Outside, the birds were twittering joyously, and Pollyanna flew to the window to talk to them. She saw then that down in the garden her aunt was already out among the rosebushes. With rapid fingers, therefore, she made herself ready to join her. (Eleanor H. Porter, Pollyanna, 1913)
The morning train When the 9.15 came out of the tunnel that morning the old gentleman in the first-class carriage put down his newspaper, and got ready to wave his hand to the three children on the fence. But this morning there were not three. There was only one. And that was Peter. (E. Nesbit, The Railway Children, 1906)
Nearly there The house was three miles from the station, but before the dusty hired fly had rattled along for five minutes the children began to put their heads out of the carriage window and to say, 'Aren't we nearly there?' And every time they passed a house, which was not very often, they all said, 'Oh, is THIS it?' (E. Nesbit, Five Children and It, 1902)
The Neverland Of all delectable islands the Neverland is the snuggest and most compact, not large and sprawly, you know, with tedious distances between one adventure and another, but nicely crammed. When you play at it by day with the chairs and table-cloth, it is not in the least alarming, but in the two minutes before you go to sleep it becomes very real. That is why there are night-lights. (J. M. Barrie, Peter Pan, 1911)
New neighbors moving in One morning, on turning the corner of the square after a visit to the grocer's, the butcher's, and the baker's, she saw, to her great delight, that during her rather prolonged absence, a van full of furniture had stopped before the next house, the front doors were thrown open, and men in shirt sleeves were going in and out carrying heavy packages and pieces of furniture. (Frances Hodgson Burnett, A Little Princess, 1905)
No walk that day There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that further outdoor exercise was now out of the question. (Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre, 1847)
North Richmond Street North Richmond Street, being blind, was a quiet street except at the hour when the Christian Brothers’ School set the boys free. An uninhabited house of two storeys stood at the blind end, detached from its neighbours in a square ground. The other houses of the street, conscious of decent lives within them, gazed at one another with brown imperturbable faces. (James Joyce, Dubliners, 1914)
Peter in the net After losing them, he ran on four legs and went faster, so that I think he might have got away altogether if he had not unfortunately run into a gooseberry net, and got caught by the large buttons on his jacket. It was a blue jacket with brass buttons, quite new. (Beatrix Potter, The Tale of Peter Rabbit, 1902)
Rain on the moor The moor was hidden in mist when the morning came, and the rain had not stopped pouring down. There could be no going out of doors. Martha was so busy that Mary had no opportunity of talking to her, but in the afternoon she asked her to come and sit with her in the nursery. She came bringing the stocking she was always knitting when she was doing nothing else. (Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden, 1911)
The Rat in winter In the winter time the Rat slept a great deal, retiring early and rising late. During his short day he sometimes scribbled poetry or did other small domestic jobs about the house; and, of course, there were always animals dropping in for a chat, and consequently there was a good deal of story-telling and comparing notes on the past summer and all its doings. (Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, 1908)
Real at last When the little Rabbit heard that he was happy, for he knew that what the Skin Horse had said was true at last. The nursery magic had happened to him, and he was a toy no longer. He was Real. The Boy himself had said it. (Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit, 1922)
The red grass As I looked about me I felt that the grass was the country, as the water is the sea. The red of the grass made all the great prairie the colour of winestains, or of certain seaweeds when they are first washed up. And there was so much motion in it; the whole country seemed, somehow, to be running. (Willa Cather, My Ántonia, 1918)
The round mushroom Alice remained looking thoughtfully at the mushroom for a minute, trying to make out which were the two sides of it; and as it was perfectly round, she found this a very difficult question. However, at last she stretched her arms round it as far as they would go, and broke off a bit of the edge with each hand. (Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, 1865)
Rowing at dawn In silence Mole rowed steadily, and soon they came to a point where the river divided, a long backwater branching off to one side. With a slight movement of his head Rat, who had long dropped the rudder-lines, directed the rower to take the backwater. The creeping tide of light gained and gained, and now they could see the colour of the flowers that gemmed the water’s edge. (Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, 1908)
Saturday morning Saturday morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The locust-trees were in bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. (Mark Twain, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, 1876)
The scent of roses The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. (Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray, 1891)
The sea never quiet I have never seen the sea quiet round Treasure Island. The sun might blaze overhead, the air be without a breath, the surface smooth and blue, but still these great rollers would be running along all the external coast, thundering and thundering by day and night; and I scarce believe there is one spot in the island where a man would be out of earshot of their noise. (Robert Louis Stevenson, Treasure Island, 1883)
The secret garden The sun shone down for nearly a week on the secret garden. The Secret Garden was what Mary called it when she was thinking of it. She liked the name, and she liked still more the feeling that when its beautiful old walls shut her in no one knew where she was. It seemed almost like being shut out of the world in some fairy place. (Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden, 1911)
Setting out at dawn The dawn in the dry, wavering air of the desert was glorious. Everything encouraged my undertaking and betokened success. There was no cloud in the sky, no storm-tone in the wind. Breakfast of bread and tea was soon made. I fastened a hard, durable crust to my belt by way of provision, in case I should be compelled to pass a night on the mountain-top; then, securing the remainder of my little stock against wolves and wood-rats, I set forth free and hopeful. (John Muir, The Mountains of California, 1894)
The Simpson children At the last pair of bars the two girls were sometimes met by a detachment of the Simpson children, who lived in a black house with a red door and a red barn behind, on the Blueberry Plains road. Rebecca felt an interest in the Simpsons from the first, because there were so many of them and they were so patched and darned, just like her own brood at the home farm. (Kate Douglas Wiggin, Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, 1903)
Snow from the train When we pulled out into the winter night and the real snow, our snow, began to stretch out beside us and twinkle against the windows, and the dim lights of small Wisconsin stations moved by, a sharp wild brace came suddenly into the air. We drew in deep breaths of it as we walked back from dinner through the cold vestibules, unutterably aware of our identity with this country for one strange hour, before we melted indistinguishably into it again. (F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby, 1925)
Splash in the pool Just then she heard something splashing about in the pool a little way off, and she swam nearer to make out what it was: at first she thought it must be a walrus or hippopotamus, but then she remembered how small she was now, and she soon made out that it was only a mouse that had slipped in like herself. (Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, 1865)
Spring cleaning 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. (Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, 1908)
The stage coach The old stage coach was rumbling along the dusty road that runs from Maplewood to Riverboro. The day was as warm as midsummer, though it was only the middle of May, and Mr. Jeremiah Cobb was favoring the horses as much as possible, yet never losing sight of the fact that he carried the mail. (Kate Douglas Wiggin, Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, 1903)
Sunrise on the prairie Carl sat musing until the sun leaped above the prairie, and in the grass about him all the small creatures of day began to tune their tiny instruments. Birds and insects without number began to chirp, to twitter, to snap and whistle, to make all manner of fresh shrill noises. The pasture was flooded with light; every clump of ironweed and snow-on-the-mountain threw a long shadow, and the golden light seemed to be rippling through the curly grass like the tide racing in. (Willa Cather, O Pioneers!, 1913)
The swing Mary was in a grassy corner of the garden, where there was a swing loftily hung between two pear-trees. She had a pink kerchief tied over her head, making a little poke to shade her eyes from the level sunbeams, while she was giving a glorious swing to Letty, who laughed and screamed wildly. (George Eliot, Middlemarch, 1871)
Tamarack Creek Out of the grassy meadow and down over this ice-planed granite runs the glad young Tamarack Creek, rejoicing, exulting, chanting, dancing in white, glowing, irised falls and cascades on its way to the Merced Cañon, a few miles below Yosemite, falling more than three thousand feet in a distance of about two miles. (John Muir, My First Summer in the Sierra, 1911)
The Time Traveller The Time Traveller (for so it will be convenient to speak of him) was expounding a recondite matter to us. His grey eyes shone and twinkled, and his usually pale face was flushed and animated. The fire burnt brightly, and the soft radiance of the incandescent lights in the lilies of silver caught the bubbles that flashed and passed in our glasses. (H. G. Wells, The Time Machine, 1895)
Tree across the river Once, in one of these lovely island chutes, we found our course completely bridged by a great fallen tree. This will serve to show how narrow some of the chutes were. The passengers had an hour's recreation in a virgin wilderness, while the boat-hands chopped the bridge away; for there was no such thing as turning back, you comprehend. (Mark Twain, Life on the Mississippi, 1883)
Up the river From Wallingford up to Dorchester the neighbourhood of the river grows more hilly, varied, and picturesque. Dorchester stands half a mile from the river. It can be reached by paddling up the Thame, if you have a small boat; but the best way is to leave the river at Day’s Lock, and take a walk across the fields. Dorchester is a delightfully peaceful old place, nestling in stillness and silence and drowsiness. (Jerome K. Jerome, Three Men in a Boat, 1889)
The walking stick Mr. Sherlock Holmes, who was usually very late in the mornings, save upon those not infrequent occasions when he was up all night, was seated at the breakfast table. I stood upon the hearth-rug and picked up the stick which our visitor had left behind him the night before. (Arthur Conan Doyle, The Hound of the Baskervilles, 1902)
The Whale In the sea, once upon a time, O my Best Beloved, there was a Whale, and he ate fishes. He ate the starfish and the garfish, and the crab and the dab, and the plaice and the dace, and the skate and his mate, and the mackereel and the pickereel, and the really truly twirly-whirly eel. (Rudyard Kipling, Just So Stories, 1902)
Why there are tides From that day to this the Moon has always pulled the sea up and down and made what we call the tides. Sometimes the Fisher of the Sea pulls a little too hard, and then we get spring tides; and sometimes he pulls a little too softly, and then we get what are called neap-tides; but nearly always he is careful, because of the Eldest Magician. (Rudyard Kipling, Just So Stories, 1902)
Windows on the lawn On reaching the house, they were shown through the hall into the saloon, whose northern aspect rendered it delightful for summer. Its windows, opening to the ground, admitted a most refreshing view of the high woody hills behind the house, and of the beautiful oaks and Spanish chestnuts which were scattered over the intermediate lawn. (Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, 1813)
Windsor Castle On a soft sunny morning in the genial month of May I made an excursion to Windsor Castle. It is a place full of storied and poetical associations. The very external aspect of the proud old pile is enough to inspire high thought. It rears its irregular walls and massive towers, like a mural crown around the brow of a lofty ridge, waves its royal banner in the clouds, and looks down with a lordly air upon the surrounding world. (Washington Irving, The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent., 1819)
Winter in town Winter lies too long in country towns; hangs on until it is stale and shabby, old and sullen. On the farm the weather was the great fact, and men’s affairs went on underneath it, as the streams creep under the ice. But in Black Hawk the scene of human life was spread out shrunken and pinched, frozen down to the bare stalk. (Willa Cather, My Ántonia, 1918)

Written for this page 48

A kitchen at dusk Late in the afternoon the kitchen turns the color of weak tea. The kettle is warm from the last pot, a loaf sits under a cloth, and the clock over the stove is four minutes fast, as it has been for years. Somebody has left a radio on low in another room. (Written for this page)
A library table At the far end of the library there is a long table by the window. Somebody has scratched a small boat into one corner of it, and somebody else, years later, has added waves. The lamp hums a little. When it rains, the whole table seems to lean toward the glass to watch. (Written for this page)
A red kite The kite is a red diamond with a tail made of knotted ribbon. On the ground it is nothing much, a few sticks and some paper. In the air it pulls like a fish on a line, dips, recovers and stands so still against the sky that it seems to have been painted there. (Written for this page)
A tide pool At low tide the rocks hold bowls of clear water. In one there is a crab the size of a coin, a strand of green weed and a shell that walks slowly away when you look at it. The sea is only a few steps off, breathing in and out, waiting to take it all back. (Written for this page)
A tin of buttons There is a tin of buttons in the sewing drawer, and no two of them match. Some are plain and white, some are shaped like flowers, and one is a brass anchor from a coat nobody remembers. Tip them out on the table and they sound like rain starting. (Written for this page)
A wooden spoon The wooden spoon in the jar by the stove has one flat side, worn that way by years of stirring the same pot in the same direction. It has a burn mark near the handle and a faint smell of onions that no washing will remove. Nobody would think of using another. (Written for this page)
The attic The attic is reached by a ladder that folds down from the ceiling. Up there the air is warm and smells of cardboard. There is a trunk with a broken clasp, a lamp without a shade, and a window so small and so high that it shows nothing but a square of sky. (Written for this page)
Autumn Autumn is the best of the four seasons, and it is not close. The air is cool enough for a sweater and warm enough to leave the coat at home. The trees put on a show for nothing. Even the light looks as if somebody had taken more care over it. (Written for this page)
The back steps Three wooden steps lead down from the kitchen door to the yard. The middle one creaks, and everyone in the house steps over it without thinking. In summer the top step is the warmest seat anywhere, and there is nearly always a cat on it who believes the same thing. (Written for this page)
The baker The baker starts work while the street is still dark. By the time the first bus goes by she has flour to the elbows and a rack of loaves cooling by the door. She says she can tell a good loaf by the sound it makes when she taps it, and she taps every one. (Written for this page)
Breakfast for dinner Breakfast is better at dinner time. In the morning nobody has the patience for pancakes, and the eggs are eaten standing up. In the evening there is time to do it properly, with the table set and seconds for whoever wants them. It feels a little like breaking a rule, which helps. (Written for this page)
The bus stop The bus stop at the top of the hill has a bench, a roof and a view of every chimney in town. On windy days the timetable flaps in its frame like a bird that wants to leave. People who wait here talk about the weather first, and then, if the bus is late, about almost anything. (Written for this page)
The case for cats A cat is the better pet for a quiet house. It asks for very little, keeps itself clean and seems to know when you would like company and when you would not. A dog is glad to see everyone. A cat chooses, and it is pleasant to be chosen. (Written for this page)
The cat comes back The cat had been gone for three days when she walked in through the kitchen door as if nothing had happened. She was thinner, and there was a blue ribbon around her neck that nobody in the family had ever seen. She ate, washed one paw and went to sleep on the mat. (Written for this page)
The corner shop The shop on the corner is narrow enough that two people with baskets have to take turns. The shelves go right up to the ceiling, and the things nobody buys live at the top, behind a row of dusty jars. A bell over the door rings when you come in and again, a little later, as if it had forgotten something. (Written for this page)
The crossing guard Mr. Alvarez has stood at the same crossing every school morning for longer than the oldest pupils can remember. He knows which children run, which ones dawdle and which will have forgotten their lunch. He lifts his sign the way a conductor lifts a baton, and the traffic, for a moment, waits for the music. (Written for this page)
The dog next door The dog next door is the color of toast and about the shape of a loaf. He barks at the mail, at the wind and at his own reflection in the car door. He has never once barked at a stranger. Strangers, he seems to feel, might have food. (Written for this page)
Early mornings The early morning is the best part of the day, and most people sleep straight through it. The street is empty, the birds are busy, and nobody has asked you for anything yet. I would not trade that hour for two in the afternoon. (Written for this page)
In praise of soup Soup does not get the respect it deserves. It is the only dinner that improves on the second day, and it forgives nearly every mistake a cook can make. Too thick, add water. Too thin, add bread. A bowl of it will warm your hands before you have taken a single spoonful. (Written for this page)
Key in the grass Nora found the key on Tuesday, half hidden in the grass beside the gate. It was small and dark, with a loop of red thread through the top. It did not fit the gate, or the shed, or anything in the house. She put it in her pocket and went to ask next door. (Written for this page)
The last slice There was one slice of cake left on the plate and four people at the table. Nobody reached for it. Grandpa cleared his throat. The twins looked at each other. Then the dog, who had been asleep under a chair all afternoon, opened one eye. (Written for this page)
Letters by hand A letter written by hand is worth ten typed messages. You can see where the writer hurried and where they stopped to think. The paper has been in their house. It takes days to arrive, and so it tends to say only what was worth the stamp. (Written for this page)
The lights go out The lights went out just as Dad lifted the spoon to taste the soup. For a second nobody spoke. Then a drawer opened, a match scratched, and one small flame showed four faces around the stove. "Well," said Dad, "I suppose we had better tell stories until they come back." (Written for this page)
The long way home I think the long way home is usually the right one. The short way gets you there, and that is all it does. The long way goes past the bakery, the wall where the cat sits and the house with the blue door. You arrive ten minutes later and in a better mood. (Written for this page)
Losing at games A board game is more fun when you lose now and then. Winning every time teaches you nothing and annoys the others. Losing by one move, on the other hand, gives you something to think about all week, and a very good reason to play again on Saturday. (Written for this page)
Lunch on day one On her first day at the new school, Ines ate lunch at the end of a long table and kept her eyes on her sandwich. Halfway through, a tray slid into the place across from her. "You have the same lunch box as my cousin," said a voice. "Do you want to see something in the gym?" (Written for this page)
Map in the drawer At the back of the desk drawer, under a pile of old receipts, Ben found a map drawn by hand. It showed his own street, his own house and the park at the end of the road. Near the big oak someone had made a small cross in red ink. (Written for this page)
The muddy boots The boots by the back door are never clean for more than a day. They have been through the creek, the vegetable patch and one memorable puddle that turned out to be deeper than it looked. Each evening they are lined up side by side, toes to the wall, to dry. (Written for this page)
Note in a book When Leo opened the library book a slip of paper fell out. On it, in careful pencil, someone had written, "If you liked this one, look behind the atlas on the bottom shelf." He read it again. The library closed in ten minutes, and the atlas shelf was at the other end of the room. (Written for this page)
The old armchair The armchair by the window has a dip in the seat that fits exactly one person, and that person is usually the cat. One arm is shiny where sleeves have rubbed it. If you sit down quickly it lets out a sigh, as though it had been hoping for a quiet afternoon. (Written for this page)
The old bicycle The bicycle is older than the boy who rides it. It was blue once, and still is in the places where hands and knees have not worn it down to silver. The bell works only on cold days. It leans against the fence each night like a horse that knows the way home. (Written for this page)
The paper boat The paper boat went farther than anyone expected. It crossed the pond, turned once in the wind and bumped against the far bank, where a boy in a green coat picked it up. He looked at it for a moment. Then he took a pencil from his pocket and began to write on the sail. (Written for this page)
Paper maps A paper map is better than a screen for one reason: it shows you what you were not looking for. You open it to find a street and notice a lake, a ferry and a town with a funny name. Nobody ever planned a good trip from a blue dot. (Written for this page)
Pencils over pens Give me a pencil over a pen. A pencil lets you change your mind. It works upside down, in the cold and on the back of an envelope, and when it grows dull you can make it new again in five seconds. A pen only ever runs out. (Written for this page)
The piano teacher Miss Lindqvist keeps a bowl of pencils on the piano, all of them sharpened and none of them long. She taps the beat on her knee and hums the hard parts along with you. When a piece finally goes right she says nothing at all, only turns the page, and that is how you know. (Written for this page)
The pond in winter By January the pond has gone quiet. The reeds stand stiff and pale along the edge, and the ducks keep to the one dark patch of water that has not frozen. If you stand still you can hear the ice tick as it settles. Nothing else moves except your breath. (Written for this page)
The porch swing The porch has a swing that holds two people, or three if one of them is small. The chains squeak on the way back and are silent on the way forward. From here you can see who is walking past, who has a new dog and whose turn it is to mow. (Written for this page)
Rainy days I like a rainy day better than most people seem to. Rain gives you a reason to stay in and finish the things a sunny day talks you out of. The light is soft, the street is quiet, and tea tastes better. A sunny day asks something of you. A rainy day asks nothing. (Written for this page)
The school hallway After the last bell the hallway is all echoes. A row of coat hooks holds one forgotten scarf. The floor still shines where it was polished over the holidays, and at the far end a door stands open on a room full of chairs turned upside down on their desks. (Written for this page)
The slow clock The clock in the hall loses a minute every day. On Sundays someone opens the glass and moves the long hand forward, and for a little while the house is exactly on time. By Friday it has drifted again, and dinner is late, and nobody minds. (Written for this page)
Snow in the night Maya woke because the room was too bright. It was not morning. She went to the window and saw that every roof, fence and parked car had turned white while she slept, and that the snow was still coming down, slowly, in the light of the street lamp. One set of footprints crossed the road. (Written for this page)
Tap at the window It was nearly bedtime when something tapped on the window. Sam held his breath and listened. The tap came again, three times, light and even. He pulled back the curtain a little way. On the sill, looking straight at him, sat a pigeon with a paper tag tied to its leg. (Written for this page)
Three flashes Every evening at six a light flashed twice from the house on the hill. Tonight it flashed three times. Rosa put down her fork. Across the table her brother had seen it too. Neither of them said a word until the plates were cleared and the kitchen was empty. (Written for this page)
Top of the hill From the top of the hill the town looks like something set out on a blanket. The river is a strip of foil, the cars are slow beetles, and the big clock, which seems so stern from the square, is no larger than a button. The wind up here smells of cut grass. (Written for this page)
The train platform The platform is long and mostly empty. A paper cup rolls a little way and stops. Far down the track a light appears, small and steady, and for a while it does not seem to come any closer. Then the rails begin to sing, and everyone picks up their bags at once. (Written for this page)
The window seat The best seat on a train is the one by the window, facing forward. You see everything a moment before the people behind you, and the fields seem to open like a book. An aisle seat is for people who are in a hurry to leave. (Written for this page)
The wrong bus The bus was already moving when Priya saw that the number on the front was not the one she wanted. The streets outside looked nearly the same as usual, and then not the same at all. She counted her coins, read the map above the door twice and decided to ride as far as the river. (Written for this page)
The yellow umbrella She carries a yellow umbrella in every kind of weather. On dry days it is a walking stick, a pointer and a way of reaching the top shelf. On wet days it opens with a sound like a sheet being shaken, and three children can fit beneath it if they keep in step. (Written for this page)

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