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Strength instead of being the lusty child of passion, grows by grappling with and subduing them.
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
Instead
Grows
Passion
Child
Subduing
Children
Lusty
Grappling
Lust
Strength
More quotes by James M. Barrie
Love is not blind it is an extra eye, which shows us what is most worthy of regard.
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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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She's awfully fond of Wendy,' he said to himself. He was angry with her now for not seeing why she could not have Wendy. The reason was so simple: 'I'm fond of her too. We can't both have her, lady.
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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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How shall we ever know if it's morning if there's no servant to pull up the blinds?
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Most disquieting reflection of all, was it not bad form to think about good form?
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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.
James M. Barrie
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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She was a large woman who seemed not so much dressed as upholstered.
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There is a saying in the Neverland that,every time you breathe, a grown-up dies.
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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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I think it's perfectly lovely the way you talk about girls.
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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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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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I think one remains the same person throughout, merely passing, as it were, i these lapses of time from one room to another, but all in the same house.
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Our life is a book to which we add daily, until suddenly we are finished, and then the manuscript is burned.
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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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We have a right to know the truth no right to ask anything else from God, but the right to know that.
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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
i know i'm not clever but i'm always right.
James M. Barrie