Best 31 quotes of Beatrix Potter on MyQuotes

Don't go into Mr. McGregor's garden: your Father had an accident there; he was put in a pie by Mrs. McGregor.

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

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

I have just made stories to please myself, because I never grew up.

I hold an old-fashioned notion that a happy marriage is the crown of a woman’s life.

In the time of swords and periwigs and full-skirted coats with flowered lappets - when gentlemen wore ruffles, and gold-laced waistcoats of paduasoy and taffeta - there lived a tailor in Gloucester.

I remember I used to half believe and wholly play with fairies when I was a child. What heaven can be more real than to retain the spirit-world of childhood, tempered and balanced by knowledge and common-sense...

I think if she lived in A little shoe-house That little old woman was Surely a mouse!

I think prejudice and tradition count for three-quarters in matters of religion.

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

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

It sometimes happens that the town child is more alive to the fresh beauty of the country than a child who is country born. My brother and I were born in London...but our descent, our interest and our joy were in the north country'. Quoted in The Tale of Beatrix Potter a Biography by Margaret Lane, First Edition p 32-33

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.

Peter lost one of his shoes among the cabbages, and the other shoe amongst the potatoes.

Peter was not very well during the evening. His mother put him to bed, and made some chamomile tea: "One table-spoonful to be taken at bedtime.

So much perfection argues rottenness somewhere.

Sunday, January 27, 1884. -- There was another story in the paper a week or so since. 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. One 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.

Thank 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.

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

Thank goodness my education was neglected.

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. 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.

The place is changed now, and many familiar faces are gone, but the greatest change is myself. I was a child then, I had no idea what the world would be like. I wished to trust myself on the waters and the sea. Everything was romantic in my imagination. The 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.

There is something delicious about writing the first words of a story. You never quite know where they'll take you.

The shorter and the plainer the better.

This is a fierce bad rabbit; look at his savage whiskers, and his claws and his turned-up tail.

We cannot stay home all our lives, we must present ourselves to the world and we must look upon it as an adventure.

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

What we call the highest and the lowest in nature are both equally perfect. A willow bush is as beautiful as the human form divine.

With opportunity the world is very interesting.

If I have done anything, even a little, to help small children enjoy honest, simple pleasures, I have done a bit of good.

I remember every stone, every tree, the scent of heather... Even when the thunder growled in the distance, and the wind swept up the valley in fitful gusts, oh, it was beautiful, home sweet home.