My Work In Books, Films And Talks

They Lay On Their Heathery Beds And Listened To All The Sounds Of The Night. They Heard The Little Grunt Of A Hedgehog Going By. They Saw The Flicker Of Bats Overhead. They Smelt The Drifting Scent Of Honeysuckle, And The Delicious Smell Of Wild Thyme Crushed Under Their Bodies. A Reed-warbler Sang A Beautiful Little Song In The Reeds Below, And Then Another Answered.

My Work In Books, Films And Talks Lies Almost Wholly With Children, And I Have Very Little Time To Give To Grown-ups.

I Wonder Where You Got That Idea From? I Mean, The Idea That It's Feeble To Change Your Mind Once It's Made Up. That's A Wrong Idea, You Know. Make Up Your Mind About Things, By All Means - But If Something Happens To Show That You Are Wrong, Then It Is Feeble Not To Change Your Mind, Elizabeth. Only The Strongest People Have The Pluck To Change Their Minds, And Say So, If They See They Have Been Wrong In Their Ideas.

The Little Island Seemed To Float On The Dark Lake-waters. Trees Grew On It, And A Little Hill Rose In The Middle Of It. It Was A Mysterious Island, Lonely And Beautiful. All The Children Stood And Gazed At It, Loving It And Longing To Go To It. It Looked So Secret - Almost Magic.

The Point Is Not That I Don't Recognise Bad People When I See Them — I Grant You I May Quite Well Be Taken In By Them — The Point Is That I Know A Good Person When I See One.