Shady Hollow Quotes

Big lots,' I said, seeing the eighty-year-old oaks and shady lawns. The houses were set way back and had iron fences and stone drives. The harder to hear your neighbors scream, my dear,' was David’s answer, and I sent my head up and down in agreement.

It is often difficult to know what details make the pattern until one can step away from the whole thing,

Murder isn't scary because it's crazy, it's scary because it's permanent.

Lenore had to leave then, since a mouse had a question about Of Mice & Men. “Yes, of course. It’s in fantasy,” Lenore said, flying over to assist.

What she wanted most was to curl up with a good book and a cup of tea by her fireplace

It was a perfect autumn day. The sky was that deep blue that one sees only in the heart of fall, and the leaves were reaching their peak of color. The sun was shining, the air was crisp, and it was easy to forget there was evil in the world.

In her reflective moments, Vera often wondered about the future of the newspaper and her job. Not just the Shady Hollow Herald, but newspapers everywhere. So many creatures did not even bother reading papers, especially young ones. But Vera loved the paper.

She didn’t really care for oatmeal but knew it was good for her, and after all, a creature can’t live on coffee alone.

While autumn days are for romping outside in the brilliant sunshine, autumn nights are for curling up in the comfort of one’s own home.

I do not care for crowds, which I define as more folks than I have eyes to see.

It is often difficult to know what details make the pattern until one can step away from the whole thing.

Little things, like a greeting from a stranger, were surely a sign of a good way of life.

She decided that magic was just what some folks called the things they didn’t try learning anything about.

Rain is good for business,” Lenore replied. “Rain means folk stay inside and read!

Leave your sacred cave, son of Philyra, and marvel at the spirit and great strength of this woman; look at what a struggle she is engaged in, with a fearless head, this young girl with a heart more than equal to any toil; her mind is not shaken with the cold wind of fear. From what mortal was she born? From what stock has this cutting been taken, that she should be living in the hollows of the shady mountains and putting to the test her boundless valor? Is it lawful to lay my renowned hand on her? And to cut the honey-sweet grass of her bed?” -Pythian 9 For Telesicrates of Cyrene Hoplite Race

The next morning, Vera was awoken by a tapping, as of someone gently rapping on her chamber door.

Vera would rather be drawn and quartered than take ballroom dancing lessons, but she tried to appear excited.

Absolutely no food or drink in the archives. That’s rule number two.” “Oh.” Vera sighed. Then she asked, “What’s rule number one?” “Rule number one is whatever I say it is.

the sky was that particular shade of blue one sees only on a perfect autumn day.

In the shady quiet of the woods, peace flowed over him like soothing balm. No creditors assailed him here and the old woman did not have the breath for the hills. In hollows grown chest high with briars he sometimes came upon the remains of houses, like falling ruins of some forgotten race. He wandered through them, kicking aside ancient rubbish, passing through shades of lives lived out long hence.

There is a special kind of excitement in such events: the familiarity of tradition for the older residents, the novelty of it for the younger, and, for everyone, the subtle joy of joining in a thing greater than oneself.

Collective problems don’t have individual solutions.” “Have you been reading alternative-economics books again?” Vera asked. “Bleak times call for bleak texts,” Lenore said.

We got the tree back,” Orville said solemnly, “but the solstice comes every year no matter what. It’s the longest night, but it’s the turning point. From here on out, things get brighter.

The maples had adorned themselves with garnet, the tall oaks wore burnished oranges and deep bronze, and the birches gleamed with yellow as warm as amber. Brightly hued leaves danced all around the fox, swirling to finally join a carpet of bold colors all woven together in a masterpiece only nature could work.

Always greet a spider when you see one, she had said. We may not speak the same language, but courtesy is understood by all.

She was tucked up in her favorite chair in front of the fire, reading a new book and sipping a witch-made tea…and there is no better spell for comfort than that.

Murder isn’t scary because it’s crazy; it’s scary because it’s permanent.

Coming from the city like you did, you must have been free of all that old-fashioned nonsense." - "As long as you live among others, you're never free of other ideas. That's what society means.

Let’s not worry about that till we have to,” Orville said firmly. “No sense borrowing trouble.

The next morning, after a breakfast of oatmeal chock-full of spiced apple pieces, Juniper led the little group down the mountain

To one side of the path, near the base of a clump of birches, she spied a few mushrooms growing in a perfect ring, their caps snowy white against the dark earth.

She went inside and lit a few lamps to banish the heavy shadows within. The cheerful glow warmed the room, but, needing some warmth on her insides, Vera also filled the kettle with fresh water and put it on the hob to boil.

So welcome, dear reader, to Shady Hollow.

But she was used to having everything,” Vera explained. “And when folks who had everything now only have something, they feel like they have nothing.

The Marvelous Mr. Marvel: A Made-Up Memoir? Wolf Fall? A Canine’s Guide to Making a Fool of Yourself?

What she wanted most was to curl up with a good book and a cup of tea by her fireplace.

Death is one of the most important events in any culture. How folks view death, how they treat the dead, what stories they tell about it. If you want to learn about the living, just ask how they feel about the dead.

Good questions, Vera thought, her reporter brain coming to the fore.

Orville frowned at Vera. “This is now a crime scene, and I’ll ask the questions, Miss Vixen.” He then turned to Callum and echoed, “Do you remember what time it was?

I was just going to say that,” Orville noted, still frowning.

Gossamer threads from spiderwebs draped the branches like silvery lace.

No mere snowfall could keep her from enjoying this day, especially since the morning was starting with coffee—glorious coffee.

Up in the far north, away from everything you know and dream about, lies a small village called Shady Hollow. There are many settlements in the woods, far from the cities and the bustling world. Shady Hollow is only one such community, where woodland creatures of all types and temperaments, from the tiny mouse to the mighty moose, live together in a successful and mostly peaceful society.

What does such a place look like? you wonder. First of all, a beautiful river winds through the town. Burbling cheerfully in the summer months, the river slows to a statelier pace in autumn. It freezes over in winter, and the residents of Shady Hollow host skating parties and build snow critters all along the banks. Even the creatures prone to hibernation cannot resist the lure of such icy enchantments in this place! And in spring, the river rushes back to life, nearly overflowing its banks after swelling with snowmelt and seasonal rains.

As might be expected from its name, the village of Shady Hollow is nestled deep in the woods, covering a wide valley between two mountains. What might be less expected is the fact that the village residents are all animals, representing many species and temperaments. Just how can a rabbit live and work alongside a fox? Why do a sparrow and a bear read the same newspaper? On a more practical level, where are the rabbit and fox working, and what is the headline on the paper? These are the sorts of questions a journalist asks. In her den, Vera Vixen was in fact asking herself exactly what the headline would be for the next issue of the Shady Hollow Herald and whether she could improve it. She loved the little town, but it usually was not the most exciting place in the world.

Some sticks are never seen again. While little ones play their games

Take a walk,” he advised. “Sometimes all you need to see clearly is something new to look at.

Despite the calm, she felt a thrill of excitement that only an autumn morning can supply.

Collective problems don’t have individual solutions.

Well, the story has a happy ending,” Lenore said, “for those who are into that sort of thing.

Edith von Beaverpelt did not have a great deal to occupy herself with throughout the day

I can’t think in here

When you've avoided your family for years, you don't want to jump right back into the nest together