Jm Barrie Peter Pan Quotes

To die will be an awfully big adventure.

All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.

Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.

Dreams do come true, if only we wish hard enough. You can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything else for it.

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.

Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning.

To live will be an awfully big adventure.

Never is an awfully long time.

Wendy," Peter Pan continued in a voice that no woman has ever yet been able to resist, "Wendy, one girl is more use than twenty boys.

All children, except one, grow up.

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!

Stars are beautiful, but they may not take part in anything, they must just look on forever.

Build a house?" exclaimed John. "For the Wendy," said Curly. "For Wendy?" John said, aghast. "Why, she is only a girl!" "That," explained Curly, "is why we are her servants.

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

You know that place between sleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you. That’s where I’ll be waiting.

You need not be sorry for her. She was one of the kind that likes to grow up. In the end she grew up of her own free will a day quicker than the other girls.

I suppose it's like the ticking crocodile, isn't it? Time is chasing after all of us.

Pan, who and what art thou?" he cried huskily. "I'm youth, I'm joy," Peter answered at a venture, "I'm a little bird that has broken out of the egg.

Just always be waiting for me.

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.

Can anything harm us, mother, after the night-lights are lit?" Nothing, precious," she said; "they are the eyes a mother leaves behind her to guard her children.

She asked where he lived. Second to the right,' said Peter, 'and then straight on till morning.

All of this has happened before, and it will all happen again.

It is not in doing what you like, but in liking what you do that is the secret of happiness.

There is a saying in the Neverland that,every time you breathe, a grown-up dies.

If you shut your eyes and are a lucky one, you may see at times a shapeless pool of lovely pale colours suspended in the darkness; then if you squeeze your eyes tighter, the pool begins to take shape, and the colours become so vivid that with another squeeze they must go on fire.

On these magic shores children at play are for ever beaching their coracles. We too have been there; we can still hear the sound of the surf, though we shall land no more.

The last thing he ever said to me was, 'Just always be waiting for me, and then some night you will hear me crowing.

Wendy, Wendy, when you are sleeping in your silly bed you might be flying about with me saying funny things to the stars.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder… or forgetful.

Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all. Come with me where you'll never, never have to worry about grown up things again. Never is an awfully long time.

Stars are beautiful, but they may not take an active part in anything, they must just look on for ever. It is a punishment put on them for something they did so long ago that no star now knows what it was. So the older ones have become glassy-eyed and seldom speak (winking is the star language), but the little ones still wonder.

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.

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.

Why can't you fly now, mother?" "Because I am grown up, dearest. When people grow up they forget the way." "Why do they forget the way?" "Because they are no longer gay and innocent and heartless. It is only the gay and innocent and heartless who can fly.

He was a poet; and they are never exactly grown-up.

She was a lovely lady, with a romantic mind and such a sweet mocking mouth. Her romantic mind was like the tiny boxes, one within the other, that come from the puzzling East, however many you discover there is always one more; and her sweet mocking mouth had one kiss on it that Wendy could never get, though there it was, perfectly conspicuous in the right-hand corner.

In time they could not even fly after their hats. Want of practice, they called it; but what it really meant was that they no longer believed.

One could mention many lovable traits in Smee. For instance, after killing, it was his spectacles he wiped instead of his weapon.

Boy, why are you crying?

For long the two enemies looked at one another, Hook shuddering slightly, and Peter with the strange smile upon his face. "So, Pan," said Hook at last, "this is all your doing." "Ay, James Hook," came the stern answer, "it is all my doing." "Proud and insolent youth," said Hook, "prepare to meet thy doom." "Dark and sinister man," Peter answered, "have at thee.

Sir, you are both ungallant and deficient! How am I deficient? You're just a boy.

and thus it will go on, so long as children are gay and innocent and heartless.

I wasn't crying about mothers," he said rather indignantly. "I was crying because I can't get my shadow to stick on. Besides, I wasn't crying.

You won't forget me, Peter, will you, before spring-cleaning time comes? Of course Peter promised, and then he flew away. He took Mrs. Darling's kiss with him. The kiss that had been for no one else Peter took quite easily. Funny. But she seemd satisfied.

You just think lovely wonderful thoughts," Peter explained, "and they lift you up in the air.

Second to the right, and straight on till morning." That, Peter had told Wendy, was the way to the Neverland

I don't want to go to school and learn solemn things.

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.

I'll teach you how to jump on the wind's back, and then away we go.

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.

Years rolled on again, and Wendy had a daughter. This ought not to be written in ink but in a golden splash.

Take care, lest an adventure is now offered you, which, if accepted, will plunge you in deepest woe.

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.

Peter was not quite like other boys; but he was afraid at last. A tremour ran through him, like a shudder passing over the sea; but on the sea one shudder follows another till there are hundreds of them, and Peter felt just the one. Next moment he was standing erect on the rock again, with that smile on his face and a drum beating within him. It was saying, "To die will be an awfully big adventure.

But where do you live mostly now?" With the lost boys." Who are they?" They are the children who fall out of their perambulators when the nurse is looking the other way. If they are not claimed in seven days they are sent far away to the Neverland to defray expanses. I'm captain." What fun it must be!" Yes," said cunning Peter, "but we are rather lonely. You see we have no female companionship." Are none of the others girls?" Oh no; girls, you know, are much too clever to fall out of their prams.

Forever is a very long time Peter

I am the best there ever was!

Two is the beginning of the end.

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.

no matter how hard we try to be mature, we will always be a kid when we all get hurt and cry

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...

It was then that Hook bit him. Not the pain of this but its unfairness was what dazed Peter. It made him quite helpless. He could only stare, horrified. Every child is affected thus the first time he is treated unfairly. All he thinks he has a right to when he comes to you to be yours is fairness. After you have been unfair to him he will love you again, but he will never afterwards be quite the same boy. No one ever gets over the first unfairness; no one except Peter.

They took it for granted that if they went he would go also, but really they scarcely cared. Thus children are ever so ready, when novelty knocks, to desert their dearest ones.

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

Even though you want to try to, never grow up

And if he forgets them so quickly," Wendy argued, "how can we expect that he will go on remembering us?

There are many different kinds of bravery. There's the bravery of thinking of others before one's self. Now, your father has never brandished a sword nor fired a pistol, thank heavens. But he has made many sacrifices for his family, and put away many dreams. Michael: Where did he put them? Mrs. Darling: He put them in a drawer. And sometimes, late at night, we take them out and admire them. But it gets harder and harder to close the drawer... He does. And that is why he is brave.

It may have been quixotic, but it was magnificent.

Of all the delectable islands the Neverland is the snuggest and most compact, not large and sprawly, you know, with tedious distances between one adventure and another, but nicely crammed. When you play at it by day with the chairs and table-cloth, it is not in the least alarming, but in the two minutes before you go to sleep it becomes very nearly real. That is why there are night-lights.

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.

Peter,' she asked, trying to speak firmly, 'what are your exact feelings for me?' Those of a devoted son, Wendy.' I thought so,' she said, and went and sat by herself at the extreme end of the room. You are so queer,' he said, frankly puzzled, 'and Tiger Lily is just the same. There is something she wants to be to me, but she says it is not my mother.' No, indeed, it is not,' Wendy replied with frightful emphasis.

See," he said, "the arrow struck against this. It is the kiss I gave her. It has saved her life.

However, as we are here we may as well stay and look on. That is all we are, lookers-on. Nobody really wants us. So let us watch and say jaggy things, in the hope that some of them will hurt.

All the boys were grown up and done for by this time; so it is scarcely worth while saying anything more about them. You may see the twins and Nibs and Curly any day going to an office, each carrying a little bag and an umbrella. Michael is an engine driver. Slightly married a lady of title, and so he became a lord. You see that judge in a wig coming out at the iron door? That used to be Tootles. The bearded man who doesn't know any story to tell his children was once John.

I don’t know if you have ever seem a map of a person’s mind. Doctors sometimes draw maps of other parts of you, and your own map can become intensely interesting, but catch them trying to draw a map of a child’s mind, which is not only confused, but keeps going round all the time. There are zigzag lines on it, just like your temperature on a card, and these are probably roads in the island; for the Neverland is always more or less and island, with astonishing splashes of colour here and there, and coral reefs and rakish-looking craft in the offing, and savages and lonely lairs, and gnomes who are mostly tailors, and caves through which a river runs, and princes with six elder brothers, and a hut fast going to decay, and one very small old lady with a hooked nose.

astonishing splashes of colour

And so when Mrs. Darling went back to the night-nursery to see if her husband was asleep, all the beds were occupied. The children waited for her cry of joy, but it did not come. She saw them, but she did not believe they were there. You see, she saw them in their beds so often in her dreams that she thought this was just the dream hanging around her still.

He looked at her uncomfortably; blinking, you know, like one not sure whether he was awake or asleep.

Will they reach the nursery in time? If so, how delightful for them, and we shall all breathe a sigh of relief, but there will be no story. On the other hand, if they are not in time, I solemnly promise that it will all come right in the end.

Children have the strangest adventures without being troubled by them. For instance, they may remember to mention, a week after the event happened, that when they were in the wood they had met their dead father and had a game with him.

That fiend!" Mr. Darling would cry, and Nana's bark was the echo of it, but Mrs. Darling never upbraided Peter; there was something in the right-hand corner of her mouth that wanted her not to call Peter names.

He was so full of wrath against grown-ups, who as usual, were spoiling everything, that as soon as he got inside his tree he breathed intentionally quick short breaths at the rate of about five to a second. He did this because there is a saying in the Neverland, that everytime you breathe, a grown-up dies; and Peter was killing them of vindictively as fast as possible.

It was not really Saturday night, at least it may have been, for they had long lost count of the days; but always if they wanted to do anything special they said this was Saturday night, and then they did it.

Peter had seen many tragedies, but he had forgotten them all.

Shoot the Wendybird!

I'll hold you in my heart, until I can hold you in my arms.

Next moment he was standing erect on the rock again, with that smile on his face and a drum beating within him. It was saying, "To die will be an awfully big adventure.

You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end.

Every child is affected thus the first time he is treated unfairly . All he thinks he has a right to when he comes to you to be yours is fairness. After you have been unfair to him he will love you again, but will never afterwards be the same boy. No one ever gets over the first unfairness; no one except Peter. He often met it, but he always forgot it. I suppose that was the real difference between him and all the rest.

when there's a smile in your heart, there's no better time to start

Proud and insolent youth,” said Hook, “prepare to meet thy doom.” “Dark and sinister man,” Peter answered, “have at thee.

The door', replied Maimie, 'will always, always be open, and mother will always be waiting at it for me.

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.

I think it's perfectly lovely the way you talk about girls...

No, no," Mr. Darling always said, "I am responsible for it all. I, George Darling, did it. MEA CULPA, MEA CULPA." He had had a classical education.

Peter was not with them for the moment, and they felt rather lonely up there by themselves. He could go so much faster than they that he would suddenly shoot out of sight, to have some adventure in which they had no share. He would come down laughing over something fearfully funny he had been saying to a star, but he had already forgotten what it was, or he would come up with mermaid scales still sticking to him, and yet not be able to to say for certain what had been happening. It was really rather irritating to children who had never seen a mermaid.

They have long lost count of the days, but always if they want to do anything special they say this is saturday night, and then they do it.

I say, Wendy,” he whispered to her, “always if you see me forgetting you, just keep on saying ‘I’m Wendy,’ and then I’ll remember.

All children, except one, grow up

The difference between him and the other boys at such a time was that they knew it was make-believe, while to hime make-believe and true were exactly the same thing. This sometimes troubled them, as when they had to make-believe that they had had their dinners.

Again came that ringing crow, and Peter dropped in front of them. "Greeting, boys," he cried, and mechanically they saluted, and then again was silence. He frowned. "I am back," he said hotly, "why do you not cheer?

Some day,' said Smee, 'the clock will run down, and then he'll get you.' Hook wetted his dry lips, 'Aye,' he said, 'that's the fear that haunts me.

All you need is Faith, Trust and a little Pixie Dust

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

You can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything else for it.

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...

Of course the Neverlands vary a good deal. John’s, for instance, had a lagoon with flamingos flying over it at which John was shooting, while Michael, who was very small, had a flamingo with lagoons flying over it. John lived in a boat turned upside down on the sands, Michael in a wigwam, Wendy in a house of leaves deftly sewn together. John had no friends, Michael had friends at night, Wendy had a pet wolf forsaken by its parents...

Sometimes, though not often, he had dreams, and they were more painful than the dreams of other boys. For hours he could not be separated from these dreams, though he wailed piteously in them. They had to do, I think, with the riddle of his existence.

Mrs. Darling first heard of Peter when she was tidying up her children's minds. It is the nightly custom of every good mother after her children are asleep to rummage in their minds and put things straight for next morning, repacking into their proper places the many articles that have wandered during the day. If you could keep awake (but of course you can't) you would see your own mother doing this and you would find it very interesting to watch. It's quite like tidying up drawers. You would see her on her knees, I expect, lingering humorously over some of your contents, wondering where on Earth you picked this thing up, making discoveries sweet and not so sweet, pressing this to her cheek, as if it were a nice kitten, and hurriedly stowing that out of sight. When you wake in the morning, the naughtiness and evil passions with which you went to bed have been folded up small and placed at the bottom of your mind and on the top, beautifully aired, are spread out the prettier thoughts, ready for you to put on.

Peter invented, with Wendy's help, a new game that fascinated him enormously, until he suddenly had no more interest in it, which, as you have been told, was what always happened with his games. It consisted in pretending not to have adventures...

Don't you understand Tink? You mean more to me than anything in this whole world!

Do you want an adventure now, or would you like to have your tea first?

For otherwise he would have lost faith in his power to fly, and the moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do it.

To reveal who he really was would even at this date set the country in a blaze.

asleep to rummage in their minds

Mr. and Mrs. Darling and Nana rushed into the nursery too late. The birds were flown

Girls are much too clever to fall out of their prams

You can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything else for it. ​— ​J.M Barrie, Peter Pan

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.

It is the nightly custom of every good mother after her children are asleep to rummage in their minds and put things straight for the next morning, repacking into their proper places the many articles that have wandered during the day.

Mrs. Darling loved to have everything just so, and Mr. Darling had a passion for being exactly like his neighbours; so, of course, they had a nurse. As they were poor, owing to the amount of milk the children drank, this nurse was a prim Newfoundland dog, called Nana, who had belonged to no one in particular until the Darlings engaged her. She had always thought children important, however, and the Darlings had become acquainted with her in Kensington Gardens, where she spent most of her spare time peeping into perambulators, and was much hated by careless nursemaids, whom she followed to their homes and complained of to their mistresses. She proved to be quite a treasure of a nurse.

Some disquieting confessions must be made in printing at last the play of Peter Pan; among them this, that I have no recollection of having written it.

We too have been there; we can still hear the sound of the surf, though we shall land no more.

Of course Neverland had been make-believe in those days; but it was real now, and there were no night-lights, and it was getting darker every moment, and where was Nana?

Forget them Wendy. Forget them all. Come with me where you'll never, never have to worry about grown up things again.

Good form without knowing it is the best form of all.

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.

As you look at Wendy you may see her hair becoming white, and her figure little again, for all this happened long ago. Jane is now a common grown-up, with a daughter called Margaret; and every spring-cleaning time, except when he forgets,Peter comes for Margaret and takes her to Neverland, where she tells him stories about himself, to which he listens eagerly. When Margaret grows up she will have a daughter, who is to be Peter's mother in turn; and so it will go on, so long as children are gay and innocent and heartless.

Peter had seen many tragedies, but he had forgotten them all.

Thus, when you cry out, 'Greedy! Greedy!' to the bird that flies away with the big crust, you know now that you ought not to do this, for he is very likely taking it to Peter Pan.

A safe but sometimes chilly way of recalling the past is to force open a crammed drawer. If you are searching for anything in particular you don’t find it, but something falls out at the back that is often more interesting.

When you wake in the morning, the naughtiness and evil passions with which you went to bed have been folded up small and placed at the bottom of your mind and on the top, beautifully aired, are spread out your prettier thoughts, ready for you to put on.

All remember about my mother," Nibs told them, "is that she often said to my father, 'Oh, how I wish I had a cheque-book of my own!' I don't know what a cheque-book is, but I should just love to give my mother one.

Mrs. Darling stretched out her arms to him, but he repulsed her. “Keep back, lady, no one is going to catch me and make me a man.

The pirates, listening avidly at the mouths of the trees, heard the question put by every boy, and alas, they also heard Peter's answer.

One girl is worth more than twenty boys.

I remember kisses," said Slightly. "Let me see. Aye, that is a kiss. A powerful thing.

The man is not wholly evil – he has a Thesaurus in his cabin.” (Captain Hook as described by J. M. Barrie in Peter Pan)

This meal happened to be a make-believe tea, and they sat 'round the board guzzling in their greed; and really, what with their chatter and recriminations, the noise, as Wendy said, was postiviely deafening.

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

Peter measures you for your tree as carefully as for a suit of clothes: the only difference being that the clothes are made to fit you, while you have to be made to fit the tree.

Come with me where dreams are born and time is never planned.

He did not alarm her, for she thought she had seen him before in the faces of many women who have no children. Perhaps he is to be found in the faces of some mothers also.

I have no recollection of writing the play of Peter Pan, now being published for the first time so long after he made his bow upon the stage.

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

One cannot at least withhold a reluctant admiration for the wit that had conceived so bold a scheme, and the fell genius with which it was carried out.

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

She let her hands play in the hair of the tragic boy. She was not a little girl heart-broken about him; she was a grown woman smiling at it all, but they were wet smiles.

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.

The boys on the island vary, of course, in numbers, according as they get killed and so on; and when they seem to be growing up, which is against the rules, Peter thins them out; but at this time there were six of them, counting the twins as two. Let us pretend to lie here among the sugar-cane and watch them as they steal by in single file, each with his hand on his dagger.

She saw them, but did not believe they were there. You see, she saw them so often in their beds in her dreams that she thought this was just the dream hanging around her still.

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

Doctors sometimes draw maps of other parts of you, and your own map can become intensely interesting, but catch them trying to draw a map of a child's mind, which is not only confused, but keeps going round all the time.

Peter was a superb swordsman, and parried with dazzling rapidity; ever and anon he followed up a feint with a lunge that got past his foe's defense, but his shorter reach stood him in ill stead, and he could not drive the steel home

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.

He swore this terrible oath: “Hook or me this time.

We can fly!

Nosotros también hemos estado allí y aún recordamos el murmullo de las olas, aunque no volveremos a desembarcar jamás.

I can give you the power to fly to her house," the Queen said, "but I can't open the door for you.

My dog knows very little, but what little he does know he knows extraordinarily well.

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.

Of course they lived at 14 [their house number on their street], and until Wendy came her mother was the chief one. She was a lovely lady, with a romantic mind and such a sweet mocking mouth. Her romantic mind was like the tiny boxes, one within the other, that come from the puzzling East, however many you discover there is always one more; and her sweet mocking mouth had one kiss on it that Wendy could never get, though there it was, perfectly conspicuous in the right-hand corner. The way Mr. Darling won her was this: the many gentlemen who had been boys when she was a girl discovered simultaneously that they loved her, and they all ran to her house to propose to her except Mr. Darling, who took a cab and nipped in first, and so he got her. He got all of her, except the innermost box and the kiss. He never knew about the box, and in time he gave up trying for the kiss. Wendy thought Napoleon could have got it, but I can picture him trying, and then going off in a passion, slamming the door.

Bringing up the rear, the place of greatest danger, comes Tiger Lily, proudly erect, a princess in her own right. She is the most beautiful of dusky Dianas and the belle of the Piccaninnies, coquettish, cold, and amorous by turns; there is not a brave who would not have the wayward thing to wife, but she staves off the altar with a hatchet.

Two small figures were beating against the rock; the girl had fainted and lay on the the boy's arm. With a last effort Peter pulled her up the rock and then lay down beside her. Even as he also fainted he saw that the water was raising, He knew that they would soon be drowned, but he could do no more. As they lay side by side a mermaid caught Wendy by the feet, and began pulling her softly into the water. Peter feeling her slip from him, woke with a start, and was just in time to draw her back. But he had to tell her the truth. "We are on the rock, Wendy," he said, "but it is growing smaller. Soon the water will be over it." She did not understand even now. "We must go," she said, almost brightly. "Yes," he answered faintly. "Shall we swim or fly, Peter?" He had to tell her. "Do you think you could swim or fly as far as the island, Wendy, without my help?" She had to admit she was too tired. He moaned. "What is it?" she asked, anxious about him at once. "I can't help you, Wendy. Hook wounded me. I can neither fly nor swim." "Do you mean we shall both be downed?" "Look how the water is raising." They put their hands over their eyes to shut out the sight. They thought they would soon be no more. As they sat thus something brushed against Peter as light as a kiss, and stayed there, as if to say timidly, "Can I be of any us?" It was the tail of a kite, which Michael had made some days before. It had torn itself out of his hand and floated away. "Michael's kite," Peter said without interest, but the next moment he had seized the tail, and was pulling the kite towards him. "It lifted Michael off the ground," he cried; "why should it not carry you?" "Both of us!" "It can't left two; Michael and Curly tried." "Let us draw lots," Wendy said bravely. "And you a lady; never." Already he had tied the tail round her. She clung to him; she refused to go without him; but with a "Good-bye, Wendy." he pushed her from the rock; and in a few minutes she was borne out of his sight. Peter was alone on the lagoon. The rock was very small now; soon it would be submerged. Pale rays of light tiptoed across the waters; and by and by there was to be heard a sound at once the most musical and the most melancholy in the world: the mermaids calling to the moon.

Of course the Neverlands vary a good deal

Two is the beginning of the end

John and Michael raced, Michael getting a start.

Second to the right, and straight on till morning.

Her sweet mocking mouth had one kiss on it that Wendy could never get, though there it was, perfectly conspicuous in the right-hand corner

she is called Tinker Bell because she mends the pots and kettles.

Come with me, where dreams are born, and time is never planned.

...there was a commotion in the firmament, and the smallest of all the stars in the Milky Way screamed out: "Now, Peter!

She did not yet know that Tink hated her with the fierce hatred of a very woman.

-Pues, ¿no hay ninguna niña entre vosotros? -No. Las niñas son demasiado listas como para caerse de los cochecitos.

-¡Y yo no quiero ser nunca mayor!- continuó apasionadamente-, yo quiero ser siempre niño y jugar y divertirme.

They will find the cake and they will gobble it up, because, having no mother, they don't know how dangerous 'tis to eat rich damp cake.

You just think lovely wonderful thoughts,” Peter explained, “and they lift you up in the air.

He was so much the humblest one that Wendy was especially gentle with him.

perhaps we could all fly if we were as dead-confident-sure of our capacity to do it as was bold Peter Pan that evening

Would you like an adventure now,"... "or would you like to have your tea first?

It is a blessing that he did not know, for otherwise he would have lost faith in his power to fly, and the moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease forever to be able to do it.

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.

Smee", he said huskily, "that crocodile would have had me before this, but by a lucky chance it swallowed a clock that goes tick tick inside it, and so before it can reach me I can hear the tick and bolt." He laughed, but in a hollow way. "Some day", Smee said, "the clock will run down, and then he'll get you.

-Wndy- continuó él con una voz que ningunamujer, ni grande ni pequeña, ha podido todavía capaz de resistir-. Wendy, yo te digo ahora que una niña sola es mucho más útil que veinte muchachos.

His eyes were the blue of the forget-me-not, and of a profound melancholy, save when he was plunging his hook into you, at which time two red spots appeared in them and lit them up horribly. In manner, something of the great seigneur still clung to him, so that he even ripped you up with an air, and I have been told he was a raconteur of repute. He was never more sinister than when he was most polite, which is probably the truest test of breeding...

But of course he cared very much; and he was so full of wrath against grown-ups, who, as usual, were spoiling everything, that as soon as he got inside his tree he breathed intentionally quick short breaths at the rate of about five to a second. He did this because there is a saying in the Neverland that every time you breathe, a grown-up dies; and Peter was killing them vindictively as fast as possible.

He was one of those deep ones who know about stocks and shares. Of course no one really knows, but he quite seemed to know, and he often said stocks were up and shares were down in a way that would have made any woman respect him.

The way Mr. Darling won her was this: the many gentlemen who had been boys when she was a girl discovered simultaneously that they loved her, and they all ran to her house to propose to her except Mr. Darling, who took a cab and nipped in first, and so he got her. He got all of her, except the innermost box and the kiss. He never knew about the box, and in time he gave up trying for the kiss. Wendy thought Napoleon could have got it, but I can picture him trying, and then going off in a passion, slamming the door.

So with occasional tiffs, but on the whole rollicking, they drew near the Neverland; for after many moons they did reach it, and, what is more, they had been going pretty straight all the time, not perhaps so much owing to the guidance of Peter or Tink as because the sland was out looking for them. It is only thus that anyone may sight those magic shores.

Sir James Matthew Barrie, 1st Baronet OM (9 May 1860 – 19 June 1937), more commonly known as J. M. Barrie, was a Scottish novelist and dramatist. He is best remembered for creating Peter Pan, the boy who refused to grow up, whom he based on his friends, the Llewelyn Davies boys. He is also credited with popularising the name "Wendy", which was very uncommon before he gave it to the heroine of Peter Pan. He was made a baronet in 1913; his baronetcy was not inherited. He was made a member of the Order of Merit in 1922. Source: Wikipedia

We were having another look among the bushes for David's lost worsted ball, and instead of the ball we found a lovely nest made of the worsted, and containing four eggs, with scratches on them very like David's handwriting, so we think they must have been the mother's love-letters to the little ones inside.

None of them knew. Perhaps it was best not to know. Their ignorance gave them one more glad hour; and as it was to be their last hour on the island, let us rejoice that there were sixty glad minutes in it. They sang and danced in their night-gowns. Such a deliciously creepy song it was, in which they pretended to be frightened at their own shadows, little witting that so soon shadows would close in upon them, from whom they would shrink in real fear. So uproariously gay was the dance, and how they buffeted each other on the bed and out of it! It was a pillow fight rather than a dance, and when it was finished, the pillows insisted on one bout more, like partners who know that they may never meet again. The stories they told, before it was time for Wendy's good-night story! Even Slightly tried to tell a story that night, but the beginning was so fearfully dull that it appalled not only the others but himself, and he said happily:

Mrs. Darling was married in white, and at first she kept the books perfectly, almost gleefully, as if it were a game, not so much as a brussels sprout was missing; but by and by whole cauliflowers dropped out, and instead of them there were pictures of babies without faces. She drew them when she should have been totting up. They were Mrs. Darling's guesses.

There are zigzag lines on it...and these are probably roads in the island, for Neverland is always more or less an island, with astonishing splashes of colour here and there, and coral reefs and rakish-looking craft in an offering, and savages and lonely lairs, and gnomes who are mostly tailors, and caves through which a river runs, and princes with six elder brothers, and a hut fast going to decay, and one very small old lady with a hooked nose.

-Ya sé que querías ser amable -dijo, ablandándose-, así que me puedes dar un beso. Se había olvidado momentáneamente de que él no sabía lo que eran los besos. -Ya me parecía que querrías que te lo devolviera -dijo él con cierta amargura e hizo ademán de devolverle el dedal. -Ay, vaya -dijo la amable Wendy-, no quiero decir un beso, me refiero a un dedal. -¿Qué es eso? -Es como esto. Le dio un beso. -¡Qué curioso! -dijo Peter con curiosidad-. ¿Te puedo dar un dedal yo ahora? -Si lo deseas -dijo Wendy, esta vez sin inclinar la cabeza. Peter le dio un dedal y casi inmediatamente ella soltó un chillido.

No conocía la melodía, que era «hogar, dulce hogar», pero sabía que estaba diciendo: «Vuelve, Wendy, Wendy, Wendy» y exclamó entusiasmado: -Señora, jamás volverá a ver a Wendy, porque la ventana está cerrada. Volvió a atisbar para ver por qué se había interrumpido la música y entonces vio que la señora Darling había apoyado la cabeza en la caja del piano y que tenía dos lágrimas en los ojos. «Quiere que abra la ventana», pensó Peter, «pero no lo haré, no señor.» Volvió a asomarse y las lágrimas seguían allí, u otras dos que habían ocupado su lugar. -Quiere muchísimo a Wendy-se dijo. Entonces se enfadó con ella por no darse cuenta de por qué no podía tener a Wendy. La razón era tan sencilla: -Yo también la quiero. No podemos tenerla los dos, señora.

It is the nightly custom of every good mother after her children are asleep to rummage in their minds and put things straight for next morning, repacking into their proper places the many articles that have wandered during the day. If you could keep awake (but of course you can't) you would see your own mother doing this, and you would find it very interesting to watch her. It is quite like tidying up drawers. You would see her on her knees, I expect, lingering humorously over some of your contents, wondering where on earth you had picked this thing up, making discoveries sweet and not so sweet, pressing this to her cheek as if it were as nice as a kitten, and hurriedly stowing that out of sight. When you wake in the morning, the naughtiness and evil passions with which you went to bed have been folded up small and placed at the bottom of your mind; and on the top, beautifully aired, are spread out your prettier thoughts, ready for you to put on.

No sé si habéis visto alguna vez un mapa de la mente de una persona. A veces los médicos trazan mapas de otras partes vuestras y vuestro propio mapa puede resultar interesantísimo, pero a ver si alguna vez los pilláis trazando el mapa de la mente de un niño, que no sólo es confusa, sino que no para de dar vueltas. Tiene líneas en zigzag como las oscilaciones de la temperatura en un ráfico cuando tenéis fiebre y que probablemente son los caminos de la isla, pues el País de Nunca Jamás es siempre una isla, más o menos, con asombrosas pinceladas de color aquí y allá, con arrecifes de coral y embarcaciones de aspecto veloz en alta mar, con salvajes y guaridas solitarias y gnomos que en su mayoría son sastres, cavernas por las que corre un río, príncipes con seis hermanos mayores, una choza que se descompone rápidamente y una señora muy bajita y anciana con la nariz ganchuda. Si eso fuera todo sería un mapa sencillo, pero también está el primer día de escuela, la religión, los padres, el estanque redondo, la costura, asesinatos, ejecuciones, verbos que rigen dativo, el día de comer pastel de chocolate, ponerse tirantes, dime la tabla del nueve, tres peniques por arrancarse un diente uno mismo y muchas cosas más que son parte de la isla o, si no, constituyen otro mapa que se transparenta a través del primero y todo ello es bastante confuso, sobre todo porque nada se está quieto.