A Quote by James M. Barrie

Peter: Oh, the cleverness of me. Wendy: Of course, I did nothing... Peter: You did a little. Wendy: Oh, the cleverness of you. — © James M. Barrie
Peter: Oh, the cleverness of me. Wendy: Of course, I did nothing... Peter: You did a little. Wendy: Oh, the cleverness of you.
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.
Wendy: Sir, you are both ungallant and deficient! Peter: How am I deficient? Wendy: You're just a boy.
Second to the right, and straight on till morning.' That, Peter had told Wendy, was the way to the Neverland; but even birds, carrying maps and consulting them at windy corners, could not have sighted it with these instructions. Peter, you see, just said anything that came into his head.
The key is not money; organization, cleverness, or education. Are you and I seeing the results Peter saw? Are we bringing thousands of men and women to Christ the way he did? If not, we need to get back to His power source.
When I was about six or seven, I did this character reenactment performance where I read a monologue from 'Peter Pan.' I got into a complete Peter Pan outfit and did a little paragraph from the script - and I ended up winning an award for it.
'Peter Pan' is my favorite. I love the idea that all the Lost Boys were orphans, and that they wanted Wendy to be their mom.
When I talked to him earlier, he said he had to work tonight,” Peter explained, “but that we should go ahead and draw for him.” “Draw?” I asked uneasily. “Oh Lord. Tell me it’s not Pictionary night too.” Peter sighed wearily. “Draw for secret Santas. Do you even read the e-mails I send?” “Secret Santas? Seems like we just did that,” I said. “Yeah, a year ago,” said Peter. “Just like we do very Christmas.
Oh, the cleverness of me!
Wendy, Wendy, when you are sleeping in your silly bed you might be flying about with me saying funny things to the stars.
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.
Peter,” Ashley asked softly, “Do you know what that was?” “Of course,” Peter said, much affronted. “A thimble.” “No,” said Ashley, staring, “That was a kiss.” “Didn’t it strike you as a little different from other thimbles you’ve had in the past?” Peter looked shifty. “Well, yes.” “Ha!” “It was my first thimble with tongue.” Peter told her with dignity.
What do--" Tobias's voice. Tobias! "Oh my God. Oh--" "Spare me your blubbering, okay? Peter says. "She's not dead; she's just paralyzed. It'll only last for about a minute. Now get ready to run." I don't understand. How does Peter know? "Let me carry her," Tobias says. "No. You're a better shot than I am. Take my gun. I'll carry her.
Peter finds the lost, the left-behind, the abused. Is that not why you are here? Did Peter not save you?
And Peter laughed, and when he did, all the Devils grinned, because Peter's laugh was a most contagious thing.
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.
Did you measure to attain your height? Did you use geometry to radiate your limb? Did you lament storm-torn branches? Did you inventory your leaves for the sun? You did none of these things, yet man in his cleverness Cannot match your perfection.
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