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Image of the quote is loading... SaveSave Hatred is so much easier to win than love - and so much harder to get rid of. - Quote by Enid Blyton

Hatred is so much easier to win than love – and so much harder to get rid of.

Enid Blyton
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The best way to treat obstacles is to use them as stepping-stones. Laugh at them, tread on them, and let them lead you to something better.
Enid Blyton
I do love the beginning of the summer hols,' said Julian. They always seem to stretch out ahead for ages and ages.''They go so nice and slowly at first,' said Anne, his little sister. 'Then they start to gallop.
Enid Blyton
The secret island had looked mysterious enough on the night they had seen it before - but now, swimming in the hot June haze, it seemed more enchanting than ever. As they drew near to it, and saw the willow trees that bent over the water-edge and heard the sharp call of moorhens that scuttled off, the children gazed in delight. Nothing but trees and birds and little wild animals. Oh, what a secret island, all for their very own, to live on and play on.
Enid Blyton
Oh, I wish I lived in a caravan!’ said Jimmy longingly. ‘How lovely it must be to live in a house that has wheels and can go away down the lanes and through the towns, and stand still in fields at night!
Enid Blyton
The moon was coming slowly up over the hill in front of them. The countryside was bathed in light, pale and cold and silvery. Everything could be seen quite plainly, and Lotta and Jimmy thought it was just like daytime with the colours missing.
Enid Blyton
Mothers were much too sharp. They were like dogs. Buster always sensed when anything was out of the ordinary, and so did mothers. Mothers and dogs both had a kind of second sight that made them see into people's minds and know when anything unusual was going on.
Enid Blyton
You're trying to escape from your difficulties, and there never is any escape from difficulties, never. They have to be faced and fought.
Enid Blyton
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.
Enid Blyton
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