“Running is the most elemental sport there is. We are genetically programmed to do it.”

“We must not think of the things we could do with, but only of the things that we can't do without.”

“Joinery, it now occurs to me, must be the foundation of all craft. You put two things together to make something else, to accomplish some purpose; the better they fit, or work together, the greater the pleasure from the making.”

“It is impossible to enjoy idling thoroughly unless one has plenty of work to do. There is no fun in doing nothing when you have nothing to do. Wasting time is merely an occupation then, and a most exhausting one. Idleness, like kisses, to be sweet must be stolen.”

“A 'Bummel', I explained, I should describe as a journey, long orshort, without an end; the only thing regulating it being the necessityof getting back within a given time to the point from which one started.Sometimes it is through busy streets, and sometimes through the fieldsand lanes; sometimes we can be spared for a few hours, and sometimes fora few days. But long or short, but here or there, our thoughts are everon the running of the sand. We nod and smile to many as we pass; withsome we stop and talk awhile; and with a few we walk a little way. Wehave been much interested, and often a little tired. But on the whole wehave had a pleasant time, and are sorry when 'tis over.”

“It takes 3 girls to tow always; two to hold the rope, and the other one runs round and round, and giggles.”

“My dear Princess, if you could creep unseen about your City, peeping at will through the curtain-shielded windows, you would come to think that all the world was little else than a big nursery full of crying children with none to comfort them. The doll is broken: no longer it sweetly sqeaks in answer to our pressure, "I love you, kiss me." The drum lies silent with the drumstick inside, no longer do we make a brave noise in the nursery. The box of tea-things we have clumsily put out foot upon; there will be no more merry parties around the three-legged stool. The tin trumpet will not play the note we want to sound; the wooden bricks keep falling down; the toy has exploded and burnt our fingers. Never mind, little man, little woman, we will try and mend things to-morrow”