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Them as can do, has to do for them as can't. And someone has to speak up for them as har no voices.

And some girl who can't tell the difference between a wolf and her grandmother must either have been as dense as teak or come from an extremely ugly family.

And Granny Aching wrapped this silence around herself and made room inside it for Tiffany.

Never cross a woman with a star on a stick, young lady. They've got a mean streak.

Them as can do has to do for them as can't. And someone has to speak up for them as has no voices.

Flappeti-flappeti-flapp! Pip, pip,pip! Oj oj oj, stakkar lisje meg, pipeti-pip!"

Petronella løp bort til vinduet.

Det var en Skrelling ute på stien.Den hadde laget seg noen primitive vinger av noen filler og en slags nebblignende lue av strå, og hoppet omkring i sirkel som en skadet fugl.

Åh, pippetipip! Flappeti-flapp! Eg håper verkeleg at det ikkje finst kattar i nærleiken. Å kjære vene! Stakkar meg! hylte den.

Og bortover stien kom Rottar, erkefiende av alle småfugler.

The stories never said why she was wicked. It was enough to be an old woman, enough to be all alone, enough to look strange because you have no teeth. It was enough to be called a witch. If it came to that, the book never gave you the evidence of anything. It talked about "a handsome prince"... was he really, or was it just because he was a prince that people called handsome? As for "a girl who was as beautiful as the day was long"... well, which day? In midwinter it hardly ever got light! The stories don't want you to think, they just wanted you to believe what you were told...

'Ye've got that tiny little bitty bit inside o' you that holds on, right? The bitty bit that watches the rest o' ye. 'Tis the First Sight and Second Thoughts ye have, and 'tis a wee gift an' a big curse to ye. You see and hear what others canna', the world opens up its secrets to ye, but ye're always like the person at the party with the wee drink in the corner who cannae join in. There's a little bitty bit inside ye that willnae melt and flow.

And she was the silence of the hills. Perhaps that's why she liked Tiffany, in her awkward, hesitant way. Her older sisters chattered, and Granny didn't like noise. Tiffany didn't make noise when she was up at the hut. She just loved being there. She'd watch the buzzards, and listen to the noise of the silence.

It did have a noise, up there. Sounds, voices, animal noises floating up onto the downs, somehow made the silence deep and complex. And Granny Aching wrapped the silence around herself and made room inside it for Tiffany. It was always too busy on the farm. There were a lot of people with a lot to do. There wasn't enough time for silence. But Granny Aching was silent and listened all the time.