J.M. Barrie, fully Sir James Matthew Barrie, 1st Baronet

J.M.
Barrie, fully Sir James Matthew Barrie, 1st Baronet
1860
1937

Scottish Dramatist, Author, Novelist, best known as creator of Peter Pan

Author Quotes

You promised not to! I couldn't help it. I am a married woman, Peter.

The reason birds can fly and we can't is simply because they have perfect faith, for to have faith is to have wings.

Thus did the terrified three learn the difference between an island of make-believe and the same island come true.

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. Very likely if they said this in the Kensington Gardens, they were standing looking at a fairy all the time. The reason they were cheated was that she pretended to be something else. This is one of their best tricks.

You see, dear, it is not true that woman was made from man's rib; she was really made from his funny bone.

The same kind, beaming smile that children could warm their hands at.

Times have changed since a certain author was executed for murdering his publisher. They say that when the author was on the scaffold he said good-bye to the minister and to the reporters, and then he saw some publishers sitting in the front row below, and to them he did not say good-bye. He said instead, I'll see you again.

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.

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 seemed satisfied.

The stars are beautiful, but they are not allowed to interfere in human affairs, they have only ever watch what happens. This is the penalty imposed on them for anything done so long ago that no star no longer remember what it was. So the older stars look glassy and rarely speak (speak their stars, as you wink did), but smaller ones are more interesting.

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.

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.

Young boys should never be sent to bed. They always wake up a day older.

The tragedy of a man who has found himself out.

To die will be an awfully big adventure.

Wise children always choose a mother who was a shocking flirt in her maiden days, and so had several offers before she accepted their fortunate papa.

Your heart is as fresh as your face; and that is well. The useless men are those who never change with the years. Many views that I held to in my youth and long afterwards are a pain to me now, and I am carrying away from Thrums memories of errors into which I fell at every stage of my ministry. When you are older you will know that life is a long lesson in humility.

Them that has china plates themsel's is the maist careful not to break the china plates of others.

Twin, I think you should not have dreamt that, for I didn't, and Peter may say we oughtn't to dream differently, being twins, you know.

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

There are few more impressive sights in the world than a Scotsman on the make.

Two is the beginning of the end.

Yes, he is rather cocky, Wendy admitted with regret. Her mother had been questioning her.

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.

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.

Author Picture
First Name
J.M.
Last Name
Barrie, fully Sir James Matthew Barrie, 1st Baronet
Birth Date
1860
Death Date
1937
Bio

Scottish Dramatist, Author, Novelist, best known as creator of Peter Pan