Fame Is Rot; Daughters Are The Thing.

Can Anything Harm Us, Mother, After The Night-lights Are Lit?" Nothing, Precious," She Said; "they Are The Eyes A Mother Leaves Behind Her To Guard Her Children.

Wendy: Sir, You Are Both Ungallant And Deficient! Peter: How Am I Deficient? Wendy: You're Just A Boy.

For When You Looked Into My Mother's Eyes You Knew, As If He Had Told You, Why God Sent Her Into The World - It Was To Open Then Minds Of All Who Looked To Beautiful Thoughts. And That Is The Beginning And End Of Literature.

Would You Like An Adventure Now, Or Would You Like To Have Your Tea First?

Heaven For Climate, Hell For Company.