Phyllis Forbes Dennis (31 May 1884 – 22 August 1963) was a British novelist and short story writer who wrote under her birth name, Phyllis Bottome (/bəˈtoʊm/ bə-TOHM).
Curiosity is the only thing that really carries through time, isn't it? The creative curiosity, I mean, which fights its way into expression?
Nobody can afford to appear more pleasant than they really are!
Personally, I think it's a good way to let a child start right in with the laws of Nature before he's old enough to be surprised at them.
When we refuse to accept our limitations, Nature, who is a stern realist, pays us out.
That a Jew is despised or persecuted is bad for him, of course-but far worse for the Christian who does it-for although persecuted he can remain a good Jew-whereas no Christian who persecutes can possibly remain-if he ever was one-a good Christian.
Life was a series of messes, and one spent one's time cleaning them up; if one had any heart at all one also gave a part of one's time to cleaning up those of other people.
Truth is no man's slave - but lies - what magnificent servants they make.
Jane had that happy disposition which would like to imagine that every one really wishes the well-being of his neighbour and struggles, though sometimes rather disastrously, to help him towards it.
Some of us cling to our curses if we haven't anything better to cling to!
if you listen long enough - or is it deep enough? - the silence of a lover can speak plainer than any words! Only you must know how to listen. Pain must have taught you how.
all daughters, even when most aggravated by their mothers, have a secret respect for them. They believe perhaps that they can do everything better than their mothers can, and many things they can do better, but they have not yet lived long enough to be sure how successfully they will meet the major emergencies of life, which lie, sometimes quite creditably, behind their mothers.
. . . one pets what one degrades; and one has to support what one has enfeebled
the unfortunate thing about worldliness is that its rewards are rather less than its appetites.
A red-hot belief in eternal glory is probably the best antidote to human panic that there is.
Neither saints nor angels have ever increased my faith in this enigma Life; but what are called 'common men and women' have increased it.
. . . the ears of the hunted grow even keener than a hunter's.
Marriage!. . . Why, it is like living in a thimble with a hippopotamus!
No emergency excuses you from exercising tolerance.
I am never at picnics. The ground was not meant to be sat upon in its raw state, I feel sure, and I prefer my food without either caterpillars or drafts!
It's a good thing to learn early that other people's opinions do not matter, unless they happen to be true.