Kitobdan iqtiboslar  Pollyanna: The First Glad Book. Pollyanna Grows Up: The Second Glad Book

Mrs. Snow had lived forty years, and for fifteen of those years she had been too busy wishing things were different to find much time to enjoy things as they were.
3 kishiga yoqdi
Fikr bildirish
“Be glad in the Lord and rejoice, ye righteous, and shout for joy all ye that are upright in heart.”
2 kishiga yoqdi
Fikr bildirish
All right then-here goes! I’m Jimmy Bean, and I’m ten years old goin’ on eleven. I come last year ter live at the Orphans’ Home; but they’ve got so many kids there ain’t much room for me, an’ I wa’n’t never wanted, anyhow, I don’t believe. So I’ve quit. I’m goin’ ter live somewheres else-but I hain’t found the place, yet. I’d LIKE a home-jest a common one, ye know, with a mother in it, instead of a Matron. If ye has a home, ye has folks; an’ I hain’t had folks since-dad died. So I’m a-huntin’ now. I’ve tried four houses, but-they didn’t want me-though I said I expected ter work, ‘course. There! Is that all you want ter know?
1 kishiga yoqdi
Fikr bildirish
But he never speaks ter anybody, child-he hain’t for years, I guess, except when he just has to, for business, and all that. He’s John Pendleton. He lives all by himself in the big house on Pendleton Hill.
1 kishiga yoqdi
Fikr bildirish
Timothy was Old Tom’s son. It was sometimes said in the town that if Old Tom was Miss Polly’s right-hand man, Timothy was her left.
1 kishiga yoqdi
Fikr bildirish
Her babies all died, I heard, except the last one; and that must be the one what’s a-comin’.”
1 kishiga yoqdi
Fikr bildirish
for her sake
1 kishiga yoqdi
Fikr bildirish
for your sister’s sake
1 kishiga yoqdi
Fikr bildirish
was on the last day of October that the accident occurred. Pollyanna, hurrying home from school, crossed the road at an apparently safe distance in front of a swiftly approaching motor car.
1 kishiga yoqdi
Fikr bildirish
“Oh, of course I’d be BREATHING all the time I was doing those things, Aunt Polly, but I wouldn’t be living. You breathe all the time you’re asleep, but you aren’t living. I mean living-doing the things you want to do: playing outdoors, reading (to myself, of course), climbing hills, talking to Mr. Tom in the garden, and Nancy, and finding out all about the houses and the people and everything everywhere all through the perfectly lovely streets I came through yesterday. That’s what I call living, Aunt Polly. Just breathing isn’t living!”
1 kishiga yoqdi
Fikr bildirish