Peter Carey Quotes in Summer Magic (1963)

Peter Carey: She's not knock-kneed, Nancy!

Osh Popham: [Picks up a caterpillar] That's a mighty handsome critter.

Peter Carey: He has a very ugly face.

Osh Popham: Maybe he's thinking the same thing about you.

Nancy Carey: Oh, Gilly, you can't take everything. There's just not gonna be room in our horrid new house, and we can't afford to pay storage on junk.

Gilly Carey: Why is my stuff always junk and your stuff always priceless? Here, you can have it, Peter.

Peter Carey: Thanks! I'll put it with my junk.

Nancy Carey: A lot of good that did.

Peter Carey: Let me tell her, let me tell her!

Margaret Carey: Tell me.

Peter Carey: Well, with this piano, you don't need any hands! You use your feet to make the keys go up and down. And guess what! I played! I played with this leg, and nobody showed me how.

Margaret Carey: That's your smartest leg.

Margaret Carey: The real blow was those mining stocks we'd counted on. The ones George Ferguson got your father to invest in are completely worthless. Not worth the paper they're written on.

Peter Carey: I'll be very happy to beg. I saw a beggar once with a tin cup full of money.

Nancy Carey: We can't afford that horrible little house? Oh, Mother, that's wonderful! Mother, do you remember after Father - well, you remember how we all made ourselves feel better by talking about the things that had been fun with him? And the best thing we thought of was that time we were all in Maine.

Margaret Carey: And we saw the yellow house in Beulah.

Nancy Carey: And we peered into the windows, and wasn't it wonderful? And nobody lived there!

Gilly Carey: Hey, that was years ago. You're wild.

Peter Carey: I remember it.

Gilly Carey: You weren't even born!

Nancy Carey: Well, Mother, a few weeks ago, I decided to try and find out about that yellow house. So I wrote to the postmaster in Beulah, and he answered! His name is Ossium Popham - isn't it a beautiful name?

Osh Popham: That's my daughter, Lallie Joy. She'd be more like me, only her ma won't let her.

Peter Carey: [climbing a tree] Look at me, Mother, look at me! Whee!

Osh Popham: That must be the rickety baby.

Nancy Carey: Oh, Mr. Popham, about that letter. I wrote it, and - oh, I don't know how to begin.

Osh Popham: Well, Nancy, the way I figure it is this world's the only one we got till we move on to the next one, and there ain't nothin' wrong with tellin' somethin' that's a might off from the truth to make it more interestin'.