“Then Mrs. Tiggy-winkle made tea – a cup for herself and a cup for Lucie. They sat before the fire on a bench and looked sideways at one another.”

Thank goodness my education was neglected.

What heaven can be more real than to retain the spirit-world of childhood?

I am worn to a raveling.

Thank goodness I was never sent to school; it would have rubbed off some of the originality.

It is said that the effect of eating too much lettuce is ‘soporific’.

I fear that we shall be obliged to leave this pudding

When gentlemen wore ruffles, and gold-laced waistcoats of paduasoy and taffeta – there lived a tailor in Gloucester.

A gentleman had a favourite cat whom he taught to sit at the dinner table where it behaved very well. He was in the habit of putting any scraps he left onto the cat’s plate.

I do so hate finishing books. I would like to go on with them for years.

For quiet, solitary and observant children create their own world and live in it, nourishing their imaginations on the material at hand.

Once upon a time there were three kittens, and their names were Mitten, Tom Kitten, and Moppet. They had dear little fur coats of their own; and they tumbled about the doorstep and played in the dust.

Mrs. 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.

Here comes Peter Cottontail right down the bunny trail.

I cannot rest, I must draw, however poor the result, and when I have a bad time come over me it is a stronger desire than ever.

It sometimes happens that the town child is more alive to the fresh beauty of the country than a child who is country born..

What heaven can be more real than to retain the spirit-world of childhood, tempered and balanced by knowledge and common-sense…

Comics know that they do best. They might not be best to rewrite to another person’s comedy, but they know what is best for them. Luckily,

Closeness to another person is like a fear of falling off a building to me. It’s really, like, physically painful, and it’s a brand of crazy I don’t appreciate having.

Every writer I had ever known wrote his best work when he had his back up against the wall and thought he would never write another word.

They think they’ll find another way. I’m not so sure. It seems like her book views immortality as a dangerous desire.

Humans have always believed in the possibility of another life, of a second act.

All the empirical evidence suggests that the rich tend to consume a lower proportion of income than middle and lower-income people.

I’d never hurt another person.

Islam doesn’t look for a nation to be in better condition than another nation.