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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.
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
Boys
Fire
Bigs
Huddled
Woman
Daring
Moving
Helpless
Littles
Grown
Little
Guilty
Move
More quotes by James M. Barrie
Wise children always choose a mother who was a shocking flirt in her maiden days, and so had several offers before she accepted their fortunate papa.
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Love is not blind it is an extra eye, which shows us what is most worthy of regard.
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i know i'm not clever but i'm always right.
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Temper is a weapon that we hold by the blade.
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His lordship may compel us to be equal upstairs, but there will never be equality in the servants' hall.
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When a new baby laughs for the first time a new fairy is born, and as there are always new babies there are always new fairies.
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I have always found that the man whose second thoughts are good is worth watching.
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In England, justice is open to all - like the Ritz Hotel.
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After a time he fell asleep, and some unsteady fairies had to climb over him on their way home from an orgy.
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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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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.
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Let no one who loves be unhappy, even love unreturned has its rainbow.
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Mr. and Mrs. Darling and Nana rushed into the nursery too late. The birds were flown
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What is algebra exactly is it those three-cornered things?
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Courage: The lovely virtue-the rib of Himself that God sent down to His children.
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Forever is a very long time Peter
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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.
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There could not have been a lovelier sight but there was none to see it except a little boy who was staring in at the window. He had ecstasies innumerable that other children can never know but he was looking through the window at the one joy from which he must be for ever barred.
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If you cannot teach me to fly, teach me to sing.
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He looked at her uncomfortably blinking, you know, like one not sure whether he was awake or asleep.
James M. Barrie
