Courage: The lovely virtue-the rib of Himself that God sent down to His children.
Love is not blind; it is an extra eye, which shows us what is most worthy of regard.
All great writers begin with a good leather binding and a respectable title.
Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all. Come with me where you'll never, never have to worry about grown up things again.
In England, justice is open to all - like the Ritz Hotel.
For when you looked into my mother's eyes you knew, as if He had told you, why God sent her into the world - it was to open then minds of all who looked to beautiful thoughts. And that is the beginning and end of literature.
Our heroine knew that the mother would always leave the window open for her children to fly back by; so they stayed away for years and had a lovely time.
The last thing he ever said to me was, 'Just always be waiting for me, and then some night you will hear me crowing.
Always be kinder than necessary.
Ambition it is the last infirmity of noble minds.
Wendy, Wendy, when you are sleeping in your silly bed you might be flying about with me saying funny things to the stars.
All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, ‘Oh, why can’t you remain like this for ever!’ This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end.
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.
David tells me that fairies never say 'We feel happy': what they say is, 'We feel dancey'.
Young boys should never be sent to bed. They always wake up a day older.
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.
You see, dear, it is not true that woman was made from man's rib; she was made from his funny bone.
You find a glimmer of happiness in this world, there's always someone who wants to destroy it.
I know, I feel, that with the introduction of tobacco England woke up from a long sleep. Suddenly a new zest had been given to life. The glory of existence became a thing to speak of. Men who had hitherto only concerned themselves with the narrow things of home put a pipe into their mouths and became philosophers.
We have a right to know the truth; no right to ask anything else from God, but the right to know that.
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.
She also said she would give him a kiss if he liked, but Peter did not know what she meant, and he held out his hand expectantly.
Next year he did not come for her. She waited in a new frock because the old one simply would not meet, but he never came. "Perhaps he is ill," Michael said. "You know he is never ill." Michael came close to her and whispered, with a shiver, "Perhaps there is no such person, Wendy!" and then Wendy would have cried if Michael had not been crying.
I have always found that the man whose second thoughts are good is worth watching.
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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