Thank goodness I was never sent to school; it would have rubbed off some of the originality.
BEATRIX POTTERThank goodness I was never sent to school; it would have rubbed off some of the originality.
BEATRIX POTTERMost people, after one success, are so cringingly afraid of doing less well that they rub all the edge off their subsequent work.
BEATRIX POTTERI am worn to a raveling.
BEATRIX POTTERWhat we call the highest and the lowest in nature are both equally perfect. A willow bush is as beautiful as the human form divine.
BEATRIX POTTERFor quiet, solitary and observant children create their own world and live in it, nourishing their imaginations on the material at hand.
BEATRIX POTTERThere is something delicious about writing the first words of a story. You never quite know where they’ll take you.
BEATRIX POTTERWhat heaven can be more real than to retain the spirit-world of childhood?
BEATRIX POTTERMrs. Tiggy-winkle’s hand, holding the tea-cup, was very very brown, and very very wrinkly with the soap-suds; and all through her gown and her cap, there were HAIRPINS sticking wrong end out; so that Lucie didn’t like to sit too near her.
BEATRIX POTTERIt sometimes happens that the town child is more alive to the fresh beauty of the country than a child who is country born
BEATRIX POTTERI do so hate finishing books. I would like to go on with them for years.
BEATRIX POTTERBelieve there is a great power silently working all things for good, behave yourself and never mind the rest.
BEATRIX POTTEROnce upon a time there were four little Rabbits, and their names were–Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail, and Peter.
BEATRIX POTTERThank God I have the seeing eye, that is to say, as I lie in bed I can walk step by step on the fells and rough land seeing every stone and flower and patch of bog and cotton pass where my old legs will never take me again.
BEATRIX POTTERI hold an old-fashioned notion that a happy marriage is the crown of a woman’s life.
BEATRIX POTTEREverything was romantic in my imagination.
BEATRIX POTTERThe woods were peopled by the mysterious good folk. The Lords and Ladies of the last century walked with me along the overgrown paths, and picked the old fashioned flowers among the box and rose hedges of the garden.
BEATRIX POTTER