I do so hate finishing books. I would like to go on with them for years.
BEATRIX POTTERI do so hate finishing books. I would like to go on with them for years.
BEATRIX POTTEROne day puss did not take his place punctually, but presently appeared with two mice, one of which it placed on its master’s plate, the other on its own.
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 POTTERWe cannot stay home all our lives, we must present ourselves to the world and we must look upon it as an adventure.
BEATRIX POTTEREverything was romantic in my imagination.
BEATRIX POTTERDon’t go into Mr. McGregor’s garden: your Father had an accident there; he was put in a pie by Mrs. McGregor.
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 POTTERI hold an old-fashioned notion that a happy marriage is the crown of a woman’s life.
BEATRIX POTTEROnce 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.
BEATRIX POTTERI hold that a strongly marked personality can influence descendants for generations.
BEATRIX POTTERIn the time of swords and periwigs and full-skirted coats with flowered lappets.
BEATRIX POTTERA 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.
BEATRIX POTTERWhen gentlemen wore ruffles, and gold-laced waistcoats of paduasoy and taffeta – there lived a tailor in Gloucester.
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 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