Fame Is Rot; Daughters Are The Thing.

She Was A Lovely Lady, With A Romantic Mind And Such A Sweet Mocking Mouth. Her Romantic Mind Was Like The Tiny Boxes, One Within The Other, That Come From The Puzzling East, However Many You Discover There Is Always One More; And Her Sweet Mocking Mouth Had One Kiss On It That Wendy Could Never Get, Though There It Was, Perfectly Conspicuous In The Right-hand Corner.

Forget Them, Wendy. Forget Them All. Come With Me Where You'll Never, Never Have To Worry About Grown Up Things Again.

Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder… Or Forgetful.

If Growing Up Means It Would Be Beneath My Dignity To Climb A Tree, I'll Never Grow Up, Never Grow Up, Never Grow Up! Not Me!

And So When Mrs. Darling Went Back To The Night-nursery To See If Her Husband Was Asleep, All The Beds Were Occupied. The Children Waited For Her Cry Of Joy, But It Did Not Come. She Saw Them, But She Did Not Believe They Were There. You See, She Saw Them In Their Beds So Often In Her Dreams That She Thought This Was Just The Dream Hanging Around Her Still.