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Do you believe in fairies? Say quick that you believe. If you believe, clap your hands!
James M. Barrie
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James M. Barrie
Age: 77 †
Born: 1860
Born: May 9
Died: 1937
Died: June 19
Journalist
Librettist
Novelist
Playwright
Screenwriter
Writer
the United States of America
James Matthew Barrie
J.M. Barrie
Sir James Matthew Barrie
1st Baronet
James Barrie
JM Barrie
James M. Barrie
Fairies
Quick
Fairy
Hands
Believe
Clap
Clapping
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She was not a little girl heart-broken about him she was a grown woman smiling at it all, but they were wet smiles.
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Make your feet your friend.
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The man of science appears to be the only man who has something to say just now, and the only man who does not know how to say it.
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This meal happened to be a make-believe tea, and they sat round the board guzzling in their greed and really, what with their chatter and recriminations, the noise, as Wendy said, was positively deafening.
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There are, I dare say, many lovers who would never have been drawn to each other had they met for the first time, as, say, they met the second time.
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If you cannot teach me to fly, teach me to sing.
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Shall we make a new rule of life from tonight: always to try to be a little kinder than is necessary?
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She adored all beautiful things in their every curve and fragrance, so that they became part of her. Day by day, she gathered beauty had she had no heart (she who was the bosom of womanhood) her thoughts would still have been as lilies, because the good is the beautiful.
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I have always found that the man whose second thoughts are good is worth watching.
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You just think lovely wonderful thoughts, Peter explained, and they lift you up in the air.
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asleep to rummage in their minds
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What a polite game tennis is. The chief word in it seems to be sorry and admiration of each other's play crosses the net as frequently as the ball.
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All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.
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She was a large woman who seemed not so much dressed as upholstered.
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He was a poet and they are never exactly grown-up.
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I am aware that those hateful persons called Original Researchers now maintain that Raleigh was not the man but to them I turn a deaf ear.
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He looked at her uncomfortably blinking, you know, like one not sure whether he was awake or asleep.
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He was a little boy, and she was grown up. She huddled by the fire not daring to move, helpless and guilty, a big woman.
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But the years came and went without bringing the careless boy and when they met again Wendy was a married woman, and Peter was no more to her than a little dust in the box in which she had kept her toys.
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