Barrie Fairy Quotes

When the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies.

Do you believe in fairies?...If you believe, clap your hands!

Fairies have to be one thing or the other, because being so small they unfortunately have room for one feeling only at a time.

children know such a lot now, they soon don't believe in fairies, and every time a child says, 'I don't believe in fairies,' there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead.

I do believe in fairies! I do! I do!

Tink was not all bad: or, rather, she was all bad just now, but, on the other hand, sometimes she was all good. Fairies have to be one thing or the other, because being so small they unfortunately have room for one feeling only at a time. They are, however, allowed to change, only it must be a complete change.

It is frightfully difficult to know much about the fairies, and almost the only thing for certain is that there are fairies wherever there are children.

Fairies don’t live long, but they are so little that a short time seems a good while to them

David tells me that fairies never say 'We feel happy': what they say is, 'We feel dancey'.

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.

When she expressed a doubtful hope that Tinker Bell would be glad to see her, he said, ‘Who is Tinker Bell?’ ‘O Peter,’ she said, shocked; but even when she explained he could not remember. ‘There are such a lot of them,’ he said. ‘I expect she is no more.’ I expect he was right, for fairies don’t live long, but they are so little that a short time seems a good while to them.

She liked his tears so much that she put out her beautiful finger and let them run over it. Her voice was so low that at first he could not make out what she said. Then he made it out. She was saying that she thought she could get well again if children believed in fairies.

After a time he fell asleep, and some unsteady fairies had to climb over him on their way home from an orgy.

A moment after the fairy's entrance the window was blown open by the breathing of the little stars, and Peter dropped in.

She says she glories in being abandoned

You are too late," he cried proudly, "I have shot the Wendy. Peter will be so pleased with me." Overhead Tinker Bell shouted "Silly ass!" and darted into hiding.

What if I fall oh but my darling what if you fly

Whenever a child says "I don't believe in fairies" there's a little fairy somewhere that falls right down dead

The loveliest tinkle as of golden bells answered him. It is the fairy language. You ordinary children can never hear it, but if you were to hear it you would know that you had heard it once before.

There is almost nothing that has such a keen sense of fun as a fallen leaf.

What’s your name?’ he asked. ‘Wendy Moira Angela Darling,’ she replied with some satisfaction. ‘What is your name?’ ‘Peter Pan.’ She was already sure that he must be Peter, but it did seem a comparatively short name. ‘Is that all?’ ‘Yes,’ he said rather sharply. He felt for the first time that it was a shortish name. ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Wendy Moira Angela. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Peter gulped. She asked where he lived. ‘Second to the right,’ said Peter, ‘and then straight on till morning.’ ‘What a funny address!’ Peter had a sinking feeling. For the first time he felt that perhaps it was a funny address. “A moment after the fairy’s entrance the window was blow open by the breathing of the little stars, and Peter dropped in.

There were letters on the bottom, letters he'd seen before, on the ship that had carried him from London, the ship that had broken up on the reef that guarded the island. The letters said: NEVER LAND. Peter looked at it. And then he looked around him--at the lagoon; at the rock where the mermaids (Mermaids!) lounged; at the palm-fringed beach; at the tinkling fairy flitting over his head; at his new friends the Mollusks; at the jungle-covered, pirate-infested mountains looming over it all. Then he looked at the board again, and he laughed out loud. 'That's exactly where I am,' he said.

he decided to appeal to the fairies for enlightenment. They are reputed to know a good deal.

When you were a bird you knew the fairies pretty well, and you remember a good deal about them in your babyhood, which it is a great pity you can't write down, for gradually you forget, and I have heard of children who declared that they had never once seen a fairy.

I can't come,' she said apologetically, 'I have forgotten how to fly.' 'I'll soon teach you again.' 'O Peter, don't waste the fairy dust on me.

At first Mrs. Darling did not know, but after thinking back into her childhood she just remembered a Peter Pan who was said to live with the fairies. There were odd stories about him, as that when children died he went part of the way with them, so that they should not be frightened.

Escucha, Campanilla —gritó—, ya no soy tu amigo. Aléjate de mí para siempre.

Don't you understand? You mean more to me that anything in this entire world.

You see 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. They live in nests in the top of trees; and the mauve ones are boys and the white ones are girls, and the blue ones are just little sillies who are not sure what they are.

No. You see children know such a lot now, they soon don’t believe in fairies, and every time a child says, ‘I don’t believe in fairies,’ there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead.

You see 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. They live in nests on the tops of trees; and the mauve ones are boys and the white ones are girls, and the blue ones are just little sillies who are not sure what they are.

…when the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies.” —J.M. Barrie

fairies never say "We feel happy": what they say is, "We feel dancey." Well,

The loveliest tinkle as of golden bells answered him. It is the fairy language.

If this were a fairy tale, that meant the dragon had been slain. Or hadn’t arrived yet.

You see, Wendy, when the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies.

Then tell her,' Wendy begged, 'to put out her light.' 'She can't put it out. That is about the only thing fairies can't do. It just goes out of itself when she falls asleep, same as the stars.' 'Then

And so," he went on good-naturedly, "there ought to be one fairy for every boy and girl." "Ought to be? Isn't there?" "No. You see children know such a lot now, they soon don't believe in fairies, and every time a child says, 'I don't believe in fairies,' there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead.

Playing and fun are not the same thing, though when we grow up we may forget that and find ourselves mixing up playing with happiness. There can be a kind of amnesia about the seriousness of playing, especially when we played by ourselves or looked like we were playing by ourselves. I believe a kid who is playing is not alone. There is something brought alive during play, and this something, when played, seems to play back. If playing isn't happiness or fun, if it is something which may lead to those things or to something else entirely, not being able to play is a misery. No one stopped me from playing when I was alone, but there were times when I wasn't able to, though I wanted to--there were times when nothing played back. Writers call it 'writer's block'. For kids there are other names for that feeling, though kids don't usually know them. Fairy tales and myths are often about this very thing. They begin sometimes with this very situation: a dead kingdom. Its residents all turned to stone. It's a good way to say it, that something alive is gone. The television eased the problem by presenting channels to an ever-lively world I could watch, though it couldn't watch me back, not that it would see much if it could. A girl made of stone facing a flickering light, 45 years later a woman made of stone doing the same thing. In a myth or a fairy tale one doesn't restore the kingdom by passivity, nor can it be done by force. It can't be done by logic or thought. It can't be done by logic or thought. So how can it be done? Monsters and dangerous tasks seem to be part of it. Courage and terror and failure or what seems like failure, and then hopelessness and the approach of death convincingly. The happy ending is hardly important, though we may be glad it's there. The real joy is knowing that if you felt the trouble in the story, your kingdom isn't dead.

because you see 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. They live in nests on the tops of trees; and the mauve ones are boys and the white ones are girls, and the blue ones are just little sillies who are not sure what they are.

In his absence things are usually quiet on the island. The fairies take an hour longer in the morning, the beasts attend to their young, the redskins feed heavily for six days and nights, and when pirates and lost boys meet they merely bite their thumbs at each other. But with the coming of Peter, who hates lethargy, they are all under way again: if you put your ear to the ground now, you would hear the whole island seething with life. On

- Se vuoi, ti do un bacio. - Peter le rispose: - Grazie - e non avendo idea di ciò che fosse un bacio, le tese una mano attendendo che vi deponesse qualche cosa. Per Maimie, questo fu un terribile colpo, ma sentì che non poteva spiegargli meglio la cosa, senza maggiormente addolorarlo, perciò con squisita delicatezza gli infilò in un ditino un ditale d'argento che, frugando, si era trovata in tasca, e gli disse: - Ecco, caro! - proprio come se gli avesse dato un bacio. E Peter non seppe mai la differenza tra un bacio e un ditale. […] - Se desideri darmi un bacio, lo puoi fare - disse Maimie. Peter allora prese, con molta riluttanza, a sfilarsi il ditale dal dito; pensava che Maimie lo rivolesse e per questo stava diventando rapidamente triste e malinconico. - Non volevo dire un bacio - si corresse Maimie - ma un ditale. - Cos'è un ditale? - chiese Peter preoccupato. - Questo è un ditale - rispose Maimie e lo baciò. Così Peter le diede tanti, tanti ditali con dolcezza e serietà. E lo fece proprio bene, se considerate che era la prima volta che lo faceva. Si dice davvero a ragione che non si sa mai ciò di cui si è capaci finché non ci si è provati a farlo.

How close to the moon does the tooth fairy soar with her arms so full she can hold no more? Could the tiny bright stars that hang in the sky be the teeth that fell down as she flew by?

The fairy tale about the people who freely detach and re-attach appendages still inspires Sam. He remembers the character who interchanged his earlobes and testicles so he could acutely hear his ejaculations and enjoy a tightening at the side of his head whenever the weather got cold.

I am not the wicked stepmother in this fairy’s tale.

Remember the part in Peter Pan where we clap to prove that we believe in fairies, and we save Tinker Bell? That’s our monetary system! It’s the Tinker Bell System!

When the first baby laughed for the first time, his laugh broke into a million pieces, and they all went skipping about. That was the beginning of fairies.

Lerner held that Brigadoon was one of Minnelli’s least vivacious efforts, despite the potential offered by CinemaScope. Only the wedding scene and the chase that follows reveal Minnelli’s unique touch. Before shooting began, Freed rushed to inform Lerner that “Vincente is bubbling over with enthusiasm about Brigadoon.” But, evidently, his heart was not in this film. Early on, Minnelli made a mistake and confessed to Kelly that he really hadn’t liked the Broadway show. As a film, Brigadoon was curiously flat and rambling, lacking in warmth or charm, and the direction lacks Minnelli’s usual vitality and smooth flow. Admittedly, Lerner’s fairy-tale story was too much of a wistful fancy. Two American hunters go astray in the Scottish hills, landing in a remote village that seems to be lost in time. One of the fellows falls in love with a bonnie lass from the past, which naturally leads to some complications. Minnelli thought that it would be better to set the story in 1774, after the revolts against English rule had ended. For research about the look of the cottages, he consulted with the Scottish Tourist Board in Edinburgh. But the resulting set of the old highland village looks artificial, despite the décor, the Scottish costumes, the heather blossoms, and the scenic backdrops. Inexplicably, some of the good songs that made the stage show stand out, such as “Come to Me, Bend to Me,” “My Mother’s Wedding Day,” and “There But for You Go I,” were omitted from the film. Other songs, such as “The Heather on the Hill” and “Almost Like Being in Love,” had some charm, though not enough to sustain the musical as a whole. Moreover, the energy of the stage dances was lost in the transfer to the screen, which was odd, considering that Kelly and Charisse were the dancers. For some reason, their individual numbers were too mechanical. What should have been wistful and lyrical became an exercise in trickery and by-now-predictable style. With the exception of “The Chase,” wherein the wild Scots pursue a fugitive from their village, the ensemble dances were dull. Onstage, Agnes de Mille’s choreography gave the dance a special energetic touch, whereas Kelly’s choreography in the film was mediocre at best and uninspired at worst. It didn’t help that Kelly and Charisse made an odd, unappealing couple. While he looks thin and metallic, she seems too solemn and often just frozen. The rest of the cast was not much better. Van Johnson, as Kelly’s friend, pouts too much. As Scottish villagers, Barry Jones, Hugh Laing, and Jimmy Thompson act peculiarly, to say the least.

She liked his tears so much that she put out her beautiful finger and let them run over it. Her voice was so low that at first he could not make out what she said. Then he made it out. She was saying that she thought she could get well again if children believed in fairies. J. M. Barrie, Peter Pan