What a polite game tennis is. The chief word in it seems to be "sorry" and admiration of each other's play crosses the net as frequently as the ball.

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.

They knew in what they called their hearts that one can get on quite well without a mother, and that it is only the mothers who think you can't.

She was a large woman who seemed not so much dressed as upholstered.

I'm youth, I'm joy, I'm a little bird that has broken out of the egg.

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

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