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?

The best of our fiction is by novelists who allow that it is as good as they can give, and the worst by novelists who maintain that they could do much better if only the public would let them.

After a time he fell asleep, and some unsteady fairies had to climb over him on their way home from an orgy.

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

I have always found that the man whose second thoughts are good is worth watching.

Do you believe in fairies? Say quick that you believe. If you believe, clap your hands!

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