J.M. Barrie: What did you think?
Peter Llewelyn Davies: It's about our summer together, isn't it?
J.M. Barrie: It is.
Peter Llewelyn Davies: About all of us.
J.M. Barrie: That's right. You like it?
Peter Llewelyn Davies: It's magical. Thank you.
J.M. Barrie: No, thank you. Thank you, Peter.

Twenty-five seats, given to orphans. Perfect. Now my nightmare is complete.

Charles Frohman

Hello! Thought you could escape from Captain Swarthy, eh? Off to the ship with you, then.

J.M. Barrie

J.M. Barrie: It seems to me that Peter's trying to grow up too fast. I imagine he thinks that grown-ups don't hurt as deeply as children do when they... when they lose someone. I lost my older brother David when I was just Peter's age, and it nearly destroyed my mother.
Sylvia Llewelyn Davies: James, I'm so sorry. Your poor mother. I can't imagine losing a child.
J.M. Barrie: She didn't get out of bed for months, she wouldn't eat. I tried everything to make her happy but she only wanted David. So one day I dressed myself in David's clothing and I went to her.
Sylvia Llewelyn Davies: You must have frightened her to death.
J.M. Barrie: I think it was the first time she ever actually looked at me, and that was the end of the boy James. I used to say to myself he'd gone to Neverland.
Sylvia Llewelyn Davies: Where?
J.M. Barrie: Neverland. It's a wonderful place... I've not spoken about this before to anyone- ever.
Sylvia Llewelyn Davies: What's it like, Neverland?
J.M. Barrie: One day I'll take you there.

J.M. Barrie: You needn't steal my journal to get to know me, Mary.
Mary Ansell Barrie: No. I suppose I could just go see the plays.

J.M. Barrie: Listen, what would you think of loaning Emma out to the Davies' for the occasional evening? They don't actually have a cook.
Mary Ansell Barrie: I take it Mrs. Davies enjoyed the meal she had here?
J.M. Barrie: I imagine she could use an extra hand now and again, that's all.
Mary Ansell Barrie: Oh, that's very charitable of you. Perhaps we can send over some of the silver as well... and what about linen? I wouldn't be surprised if some of hers was looking a bit shabby.
J.M. Barrie: Please, Mary, stop.
Mary Ansell Barrie: Maybe she can send over some of the things we've run short on. My husband, for example. We rarely see him in this house.
J.M. Barrie: That hasn't seemed to bother you for some time now

J.M. Barrie: Write about your family, Write about the talking Whale.
Peter Llewelyn Davies: What Whale?
J.M. Barrie: The one that is trapped in your imagination, desperate to get out.

Mrs. Emma du Maurier: Go upstairs George, now!
George Llewelyn Davies: Quit ordering me about! This isn't your home, it's *our* home! Just because Mother's needed your help recently doesn't give you the right to lord over her existence. She isn't a child anymore, and neither am I. If she wants to see uncle Jim she can see uncle Jim. There's nothing you can do about it!

[distressed] Michael! Where are your socks?

Sylvia Llewelyn Davies

Pop Fisher: My ma urged me to get out of this game. When I was a kid, she pleaded with me. And I meant to, you know what I mean? But she died.
Red Blow: Tough.
Pop Fisher: Now look at me. I'm wet nurse to a last-place, dead-to-the-neck-up ball club, and I'm choking to death!

Pop Fisher: Come on, Fowler! Throw strikes!
Red Blow: Fowler's killing worms, Pop.

The only thing I know about the dark is you can't see in it.

Roy Hobbs

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