Quote

Everything in the country, animate and inanimate, seems to whisper, be serene, be kind, be happy. We grow tolerant there unconsciously.

Fanny Fern

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Fanny Fern
Age: 61 †
Born: 1811
Born: July 9
Died: 1872
Died: October 10
Columnist
Essayist
Journalist
Novelist
Writer
Portland
Maine
Sara Payson Willis Parton
Sara Payson Willis
Everything
Tolerant
Country
Unconsciously
Kind
Whisper
Serene
Grow
Grows
Happy
Animate
Seems
Inanimate

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Why will parents use that expression? What right have you to have a favorite child?
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One person is as good as another in New England, and better, too.
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they who are not fastidious as to the means, seldom fail of securing the result they aim at.
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It is the most astonishing thing that persons who have not sufficient education to spell correctly, to punctuate properly, to place capital letters in the right places, should, when other means of support fail, send mss. for publication.
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No crust so tough as the grudged bread of dependence.
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adversity is so rough a teacher!
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A little oil makes machinery work easy.
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I hate the word proper. If you tell me a thing is not proper, I immediately feel the most rabid desire to go 'neck and heels' into it.
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The term 'lady' has been so misused, that I like better the old-fashioned term, woman.
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Why don't men ... leave off those detestable stiff collars, stocks, and things, that make them all look like choked chickens, and which hide so many handsomely-turned throats, that a body never sees, unless a body is married, or unless a body happens to see a body's brothers while they are shaving.
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I am convinced that there are times in everybody's experience when there is so much to be done, that the only way to do it is to sit down and do nothing.
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How strong sometimes is weakness!
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Hurry, drive and bustle ... Everybody looking out for number one, and caring little who jostled past, if their rights were not infringed.
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Experience is an excellent doctor, though he never had a diploma.
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Every father knows at once too much and too little about his own son.
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Oh! to be a child again. My only treasures, bits of shell and stone and glass. To love nothing but maple sugar. To fear nothing but a big dog. To go to sleep without dreading the morrow. To wake up with a shout. Not to have seen a dead face. Not to dread a living one. To be able to believe.
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Hoary-headed old Winter, I have had enough of you!
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Blessed be sleep! We are all young then we are all happy. Then our dead are living.
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I am getting sick of people. I am falling in love with things. They hold their tongues.
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Advice is like a doctor's pills how easily he gives them! how reluctantly he takes them when his turn comes!
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