We may begin with our ambition set on museum treasures, but we can come happily down to the friendly fragments that fit our private purses and the wall-space by the inglenook.
"The Tapestry Book"
Helen Churchill Candee
Last Christmas Eve she had sat there, a sweet and saintly presence, in the inglenook, more, so it had almost seemed, the centre of the home circle than the father and mother; and now the December stars were shining over her grave, and not one of that heedless group remembered her; not once was her name spoken; even her old dog had forgotten her-he sat with his nose in Margaret's lap, blinking with drowsy, aged contentment at the fire.
"Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1905 to 1906"
Lucy Maud Montgomery
To you the Gothic building, with its carved pinnacles, its warped gables, its mullioned casements and dormer windows, the old oak within, the very inglenook by the great fireplace where the old folks used to sit at home, the ivy trailing round the grey walls, the jessamine, roses, and clematis that in their proper seasons clustered round the porch,-to you all these things will have their charm as long as you live.
"A Cotswold Village"
J. Arthur Gibbs