J.M. Barrie Quotes

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

The secret of happiness is not in doing what one likes, but in liking what one does.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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.

Our life is a book to which we add daily, until suddenly we are finished, and then the manuscript is burned.

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

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.