Margaret Mitchell
Margaret Mitchell
Margaret Munnerlyn Mitchellwas an American author and journalist. One novel by Mitchell was published during her lifetime, the American Civil War-era novel, Gone with the Wind, for which she won the National Book Award for Most Distinguished Novel of 1936 and the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1937. In more recent years, a collection of Mitchell's girlhood writings and a novella she wrote as a teenager, Lost Laysen, have been published. A collection of articles written by Mitchell for The...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth8 November 1900
CityAtlanta, GA
CountryUnited States of America
I'm riding you with a slack rein, my pet, but don't forget that I'm riding with curb and spurs just the same.
Babies, babies, babies. Why did God make so many babies? But no, God didn't make them. Stupid people made them.
Hush," he said. "I am asking you to marry me. Would you be convinced if I knelt down?
The way to get a man interested and to hold his interest was to talk about himself, and then gradually lead the conversation around yourself—and keep it there.
Never pass up new experiences [Scarlett], They enrich the mind." - Rhett Butler
I will think about that tomorrow!
I loved something I made up, something that's just as dead as Melly is. I made a pretty suit of clothes and fell in love with it. And when Ashley came riding along, so handsome, so different, I put that suit on him and made him wear it whether it fitted him or not. And I wouldn't see what he really was. I kept on loving the pretty clothes—and not him at all.
She could see so clearly now that he was only a childish fancy, no more important really than her spoiled desire for the aquamarine earbobs she had coaxed out of Gerald. For, once she owned the earbobs, they had lost their value, as everything except money lost its value once it was hers.
Hunger gnawed at her empty stomach again and she said aloud: 'As God is my witness, and God is my witness, the Yankees aren't going to lick me. I'm going to live through this, and when it's over, I'm never going to be hungry again. No, nor any of my folks. If I have to steal or kill - as God is my witness, I'm never going to be hungry again.
I won't think of it now. I can't stand it now. I'll think of it later.
Sir" said Mrs. Meade indignantly. "There are NO deserters in the Confederate army." "I beg your pardon," said Rhett with mock humility. "I meant those thousands on furlough who FORGOT to rejoin their regiments and those who have been over their wounds for six months but who remain at home, going about their usual business or doing the spring plowing.
Crackers are short on sparkle.
They knew that love snatched in the face of danger and death was doubly sweet for the strange excitement that went with it.
Why will people persist in reading strange meanings into the simplest of story? Is it not enough that a writer can entertain for a few hours with narrative without being suspected of 'significances' or symbolism or 'social trends'?