When the desire ain’t on me I don’t need help. When it is on me I don’t want any. See? Like the old fellah that never mended his roof. Said on a wet day he couldn’t do it and on a dry day it was as good as anybody’s.
AGNES SLIGH TURNBULL[On religion:] Wasn’t it invented by man for a kind of solace? It’s as though he had said,
More Agnes Sligh Turnbull Quotes
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There is only one thing about which I shall have no regrets when my life ends.
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Burning logs can carry on quite a conversation!
AGNES SLIGH TURNBULL -
Sunday-evening tea before the fire! I have never missed one moment of beauty, not even taken it for granted.
AGNES SLIGH TURNBULL -
You must learn to drink the cup of life as it comes … without stirring it up from the bottom. That’s where the bitter dregs are!
AGNES SLIGH TURNBULL -
Defeat in itself was part and parcel of the great gambling game of politics.
AGNES SLIGH TURNBULL -
the human soul, by once suffering as much as it is capable of, purchases a strange and terrible immunity to all the rest of life’s sorrows.
AGNES SLIGH TURNBULL -
I think we foreshorten our own viewpoint if we consider any state of mind, or society, or government as final. Growth and change! We can’t get away from them.
AGNES SLIGH TURNBULL -
Learn to drink the cup of life as it comes.
AGNES SLIGH TURNBULL -
A country-bred man can always learn to get on with city people, but a town-bred fellah never gets the real hang of the country.
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Have you ever heard apple wood talking? It’s the most loquacious of all. You really can’t get a word in edgeways.
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I’ll make me a nice comfortable garment to shut out the heat and the cold,’ and then it ends by becoming a strait-jacket.
AGNES SLIGH TURNBULL -
The idea of perfection always gives one a chance to talk without knowing facts.
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Do you know that the tendrils of graft and corruption have become mighty interlacing roots so that even men who would like to be honest are tripped and trapped by them?
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I have savored to the full all the small, daily joys. The bright sunshine on the breakfast table; the smell of the air at dusk; the sound of the clock ticking; the light rains that start gently after midnight; the hour when the family come home.
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You can put city polish on a man, but by golly, it seems you can’t ever rub it off him.
AGNES SLIGH TURNBULL