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Years rolled on again, and Wendy had a daughter. This ought not to be written in ink but in a golden splash.
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
Daughter
Ought
Written
Years
Splash
Wendy
Ink
Rolled
Golden
More quotes by James M. Barrie
The fairies, as their custom, clapped their hands with delight over their cleverness, and they were so madly in love with the little house that they could not bear to think they had finished it.
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Love, it is said, is blind, but love is not blind. It is an extra eye, which shows us what is most worthy of regard. To see the best is to see most clearly, and it is the lover's privilege.
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We are all failures - at least the best of us are.
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You won't forget me, Peter, will you, before spring-cleaning time comes? Of course Peter promised, and then he flew away. He took Mrs. Darling's kiss with him. The kiss that had been for no one else Peter took quite easily. Funny. But she seemd satisfied.
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If I were younger, I'd know more.
James M. Barrie
Nobody really wants us. So let us watch and say jaggy things, in the hope that some of them will hurt.
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Some day,' said Smee, 'the clock will run down, and then he'll get you.' Hook wetted his dry lips, 'Aye,' he said, 'that's the fear that haunts me.
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One's religion is whatever he is most interested in.
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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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Yet if he upbraided her in his hurry, it was to repent bitterly his temper the next, and to feel its effects more than she, temper being a weapon that we hold by the blade.
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David tells me that fairies never say 'We feel happy': what they say is, 'We feel dancey'.
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I do loathe explanations.
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Again came that ringing crow, and Peter dropped in front of them. Greeting, boys, he cried, and mechanically they saluted, and then again was silence. He frowned. I am back, he said hotly, why do you not cheer?
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Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all. Come with me where you'll never, never have to worry about grown up things again.
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It may have been quixotic, but it was magnificent.
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The Elizabethan age might be better named the beginning of the smoking era.
James M. Barrie
You canna expect to be baith grand and comfortable.
James M. Barrie
He was a poet and they are never exactly grown-up.
James M. Barrie
The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it.
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You were hidden behind walls of ice no man had passed them I broke them down and love leapt to love, and you lie here, my beautiful, love in the arms of its lover.
James M. Barrie
