Oh, I am all for singing. If I had had children I should have hounded them into choirs & choral societies, and if they weren't good enough for that, I would have sent them out, to sing in the streets. Sylvia Townsend Warner More Quotes by Sylvia Townsend Warner More Quotes From Sylvia Townsend Warner Here is a kitchen improvement, in return for Peacock. For roasting or basting a chicken, render down your fat or butter with cider: about a third cider. Let it come together slowly, till the smell of cider and the smell of fat are as one. This will enliven even a frozen chicken. Sylvia Townsend Warner smell cooking food Spring is strictly sentimental, self-regarding; but I burn more careless in the autumn bonfire. Sylvia Townsend Warner autumn self spring Inflation is the senility of democracies. Sylvia Townsend Warner inflation economics democracy General de Gaulle is again pictured in our newspapers, looking as usual like an embattled codfish. Sylvia Townsend Warner usual appearance faces [On an anarchist acquaintance:] Everything in appearance the most alarmist aunt could wish. Sylvia Townsend Warner anarchist aunt wish We are also rather concerned about our moorhen who went mad while we were in Italy and began to build a nest in a tree. ... she walks about in the tree, looking as uneasy yet persevering as a district visitor in a brothel. Sylvia Townsend Warner nests mad tree You are only young once. At the time it seems endless, and is gone in a flash; and then for a very long time you are old. Sylvia Townsend Warner flash gone long When other helpers fail and comforts flee, when the senses decay and the mind moves in a narrower and narrower circle, when the grasshopper is a burden and the postman brings no letters, and even the Royal Family is no longer quite what it was, an obituary column stands fast. Sylvia Townsend Warner circles mind moving There are some women in whom conscience is so strongly developed that it leaves little room for anything else. Love is scarcely felt before duty rushes to encase it, anger impossible because one must always be calm and see both sides, pity evaporates in expedients, even grief is felt as a sort of bruised sense of injury, a resentment that one should have grief forced upon one when one has always acted for the best. Sylvia Townsend Warner grief should-have love-is There are not enough poems in praise of bed. Sylvia Townsend Warner bed enough praise The body, after all, older and wiser than soul, being first created, and, like a good horse, if given its way would go home by the best path and at the right pace. Sylvia Townsend Warner horse soul home One reason why my memory decays is that I have three cats, all so loving and insistent that they play cat's-cradle with every train of thought. They drove me distracted while I was having influenza, gazing at me with large eyes and saying: O Sylvia, you are so ill, you'll soon be dead. And who will feed us then? Feed us now! Sylvia Townsend Warner cat eye memories I have an idea that conscience impedes quite as many merits as faults, is a sort of alloy, a nickel which may prevent silver from bending but also prevents it from shining. Sylvia Townsend Warner bending shining ideas cooking is the most succulent of human pleasures. Sylvia Townsend Warner succulents pleasure cooking But what are wishes, compared with longings? Sylvia Townsend Warner longing wish desire One need not write in a diary what one is to remember for ever. Sylvia Townsend Warner diaries writing needs I wish you could see the two cats drowsing side by side in a Victorian nursing chair, their paws, their ears, their tails complementarily adjusted, their blue eyes blinking open on a single thought of when I shall remember it's their supper time. They might have been composed by Bach for two flutes. Sylvia Townsend Warner nursing cat eye All encounters with children are touched with social embarrassment. Sylvia Townsend Warner encounters social children Children driven good are apt to be driven mad. Sylvia Townsend Warner driven mad children How dreadful it is that because of our wills we can never love anything without messing it around! We couldn’t even love a tree, a stone even; for sooner or later we should be pruning the tree or chipping a bit off the stone. Sylvia Townsend Warner pruning stones tree
![[On an anarchist acquaintance:] Everything in appearance the most... by Sylvia Townsend Warner](https://whatsmyquote.com/images/quote-medium-quote-3b97e45f48c7e40997c06111a6d6dfab.jpg)
