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When ladies used to come to me in dreams, I said, 'Pretty mother, pretty mother.' But when at last she really came, I shot her.
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
Mother
Ladies
Dream
Shot
Used
Shots
Come
Dreams
Really
Pretty
Came
Lasts
Last
More quotes by James M. Barrie
In England, justice is open to all - like the Ritz Hotel.
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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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There are few more impressive sights in the world than a Scotsman on the make.
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I think it's perfectly lovely the way you talk about girls.
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They were going round and round the island, but they did not meet because all were going at the same rate.
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We are all failures - at least the best of us are.
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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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So come with me, where dreams are born, and time is never planned. Just think of happy things, and your heart will fly on wings, forever, in Never Never Land!
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I do believe in fairies, I do, I do.
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He was a poet and they are never exactly grown-up.
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When the first baby laughed for the first time, the laugh broke into a thousand pieces and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies.
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Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning.
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I am not young enough to know everything.
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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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In love-making, as in other arts, those who do it best cannot tell how it is done.
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The best of our fiction is by novelists who allow that it is as good as they can give, and the worst by novelists who maintain that they could do much better if only the public would let them.
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Feeling that Peter was on his way back, the Neverland had again woke into life. We ought to use the pluperfect and say wakened, but woke is better and was always used by Peter.
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If he thought at all, but I don't believe he ever thought, it was that he and his shadow, when brought near each other, would join like drops of water.
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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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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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