I’m youth, I’m joy, I’m a little bird that has broken out of the egg.
The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it.
All of this has happened before, and it will all happen again.
Heaven for climate, Hell for company.
Children have the strangest adventures without being troubled by them. For instance, they may remember to mention, a week after the event happened, that when they were in the wood they had met their dead father and had a game with him.
Forever is a very long time Peter.
The difference between him and the other boys at such a time was that they knew it was make-believe, while to hime make-believe and true were exactly the same thing. This sometimes troubled them, as when they had to make-believe that they had had their dinners.
When ladies used to come to me in dreams, I said, ‘Pretty mother, pretty mother.’ But when at last she really came, I shot her.
After a time he fell asleep, and some unsteady fairies had to climb over him on their way home from an orgy.
You were hidden behind walls of ice; no man had passed them; I broke them down and love leapt to love, and you lie here, my beautiful, love in the arms of its lover.
The Elizabethan age might be better named the beginning of the smoking era...
I am aware that those hateful persons called Original Researchers now maintain that Raleigh was not the man; but to them I turn a deaf ear.
It may have been quixotic, but it was magnificent.
Love, it is said, is blind, but love is not blind. It is an extra eye, which shows us what is most worthy of regard. To see the best is to see most clearly, and it is the lover’s privilege.
Facts were never pleasing to him. He acquired them with reluctance and got rid of them with relief. He was never on terms with them until he had stood them on their heads.
Every time you say you don’t believe in fairies, a fairy dies.
I’ll teach you how to jump on the wind’s back, and then away we go.
If he thought at all, but I don’t believe he ever thought, it was that he and his shadow, when brought near each other, would join like drops of water...
He looked at her uncomfortably; blinking, you know, like one not sure whether he was awake or asleep.
I suppose it’s like the ticking crocodile, isn’t it? Time is chasing after all of us.