Quotes for All
…Albert-next-door doesn’t care for reading, and he has not read nearly so many books as we have, so he is very foolish and ignorant, but it cannot be helped… Besides, it is wrong to be angry with people for not being so clever as you are yourself. E. Nesbit
Time is but a mode of thought E. Nesbit
Don’t you think it’s rather nice to think that we’re in a book that God’s writing? If I were writing a book, I might make mistakes. But God knows how to make the story end just right–in the way that’s best for us.\” Do you really believe that, Mother?\” Peter asked quietly. Yes,\” she said, … Read more
It is all very wonderful and mysterious, as all life is apt to be if you go a little below the crust, and are not content just to read newspapers and go by the Tube Railway, and buy your clothes ready-made, and think nothing can be true unless it is uninteresting. E. Nesbit
I never read prefaces, and it is not much good writing things just for people to skip. I wonder other authors have never thought of this. E. Nesbit
One of the uses of poetry – one says it to oneself in distressing circumstances, … or when one has to wait at railway stations, or when one cannot get to sleep at night. E. Nesbit
Then suddenly Jack was a changed boy. Something wonderful had happened to him, and it had made him different. It sometimes happened to people that they see or hear something quite wonderful and then they are never altogether the same again. E. Nesbit
The ones as big as sheep were easier to avoid, because you could see them coming, but when they flew in at the window and curled up under your eiderdown, and you did not find them till you went to bed, it was always a shock. The ones this size did not eat people, only … Read more
I’ll plant and water, sow and weed, Till not an inch of earth shows brown, And take a vow of each small seed To grow to greenness and renown: And then some day you’ll pass my way, See gold and crimson, bell and star, And catch my garden’s soul, and say: \”How sweet these cottage … Read more
The chestnut’s proud, and the lilac’s pretty, The poplar’s gentle and tall, But the plane tree’s kind to the poor dull city – I love him best of all. E. Nesbit