But the years came and went without bringing the careless boy; and when they met again Wendy was a married woman, and Peter was no more to her than a little dust in the box in which she had kept her toys.
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.
