“Sir James Matthew Barrie, 1st Baronet OM (9 May 1860 – 19 June 1937), more commonly known as J. M. Barrie, was a Scottish novelist and dramatist. He is best remembered for creating Peter Pan, the boy who refused to grow up, whom he based on his friends, the Llewelyn Davies boys. He is also credited with popularising the name "Wendy", which was very uncommon before he gave it to the heroine of Peter Pan. He was made a baronet in 1913; his baronetcy was not inherited. He was made a member of the Order of Merit in 1922. Source: Wikipedia”

“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.”

“What’s your name?’ he asked.‘Wendy Moira Angela Darling,’ she replied with some satisfaction. ‘What is your name?’‘Peter Pan.’She was already sure that he must be Peter, but it did seem a comparatively short name.‘Is that all?’‘Yes,’ he said rather sharply. He felt for the first time that it was a shortish name.‘I’m so sorry,’ said Wendy Moira Angela.‘It doesn’t matter,’ Peter gulped.She asked where he lived.‘Second to the right,’ said Peter, ‘and then straight on till morning.’‘What a funny address!’Peter had a sinking feeling. For the first time he felt that perhaps it was a funny address.“A moment after the fairy’s entrance the window was blow open by the breathing of the little stars, and Peter dropped in.”

“Courage is the thing. All goes if courage goes."[The Rectorial Address Delivered by James M. Barrie at St. Andrew's University May 3, 1922, to the Red Gowns of St. Andrews, Canada, 1922]”

“This is absurd. It's just a dog. Just a dog? *Just*? [to Porthos] J.M. Barrie: Porthos, don't listen! [to Peter] J.M. Barrie: Porthos dreams of being a bear, and you want to shatter those dreams by saying he's *just* a dog? What a horrible candle-snuffing word. That's like saying, "He can't climb that mountain, he's just a man", or "That's not a diamond, it's just a rock." Just.”

“Pan, who and what art thou?" he cried huskily."I'm youth, I'm joy," Peter answered at a venture, "I'm a little bird that has broken out of the egg.”

“Two small figures were beating against the rock; the girl had fainted and lay on the the boy's arm. With a last effort Peter pulled her up the rock and then lay down beside her. Even as he also fainted he saw that the water was raising, He knew that they would soon be drowned, but he could do no more.As they lay side by side a mermaid caught Wendy by the feet, and began pulling her softly into the water. Peter feeling her slip from him, woke with a start, and was just in time to draw her back. But he had to tell her the truth."We are on the rock, Wendy," he said, "but it is growing smaller. Soon the water will be over it."She did not understand even now."We must go," she said, almost brightly."Yes," he answered faintly."Shall we swim or fly, Peter?"He had to tell her."Do you think you could swim or fly as far as the island, Wendy, without my help?"She had to admit she was too tired.He moaned."What is it?" she asked, anxious about him at once."I can't help you, Wendy. Hook wounded me. I can neither fly nor swim.""Do you mean we shall both be downed?""Look how the water is raising."They put their hands over their eyes to shut out the sight. They thought they would soon be no more. As they sat thus something brushed against Peter as light as a kiss, and stayed there, as if to say timidly, "Can I be of any us?" It was the tail of a kite, which Michael had made some days before. It had torn itself out of his hand and floated away."Michael's kite," Peter said without interest, but the next moment he had seized the tail, and was pulling the kite towards him."It lifted Michael off the ground," he cried; "why should it not carry you?""Both of us!""It can't left two; Michael and Curly tried.""Let us draw lots," Wendy said bravely."And you a lady; never." Already he had tied the tail round her. She clung to him; she refused to go without him; but with a "Good-bye, Wendy." he pushed her from the rock; and in a few minutes she was borne out of his sight. Peter was alone on the lagoon.The rock was very small now; soon it would be submerged. Pale rays of light tiptoed across the waters; and by and by there was to be heard a sound at once the most musical and the most melancholy in the world: the mermaids calling to the moon.”