Peter: Peter… Pan
Wendy: Where do you live?
Peter: Second to the right, and then straight on till morning.
Wendy: They put that on the letters?
Peter: I don’t get any letters!
Wendy: But your mother gets letters?
Peter: I don’t have a mother.
Wendy: No wonder you were crying!
Peter: I wasn’t crying about mothers! I was crying because I can’t get my shadow to stick on! Besides, I wasn’t crying.
Wendy: I could sew it on to you! (…) This may hurt a little. (…) Might I borrow your knife? (…) Thank you!
Peter: Oh! The cleverness of me!
Wendy: Of course I did nothing!
Peter: You did a little…
Wendy: A little?! (…) Good night!
Peter: Wendy… (…) One girl worths more than twenty boys.
Wendy: Do you really think so?
Peter: I live with boys, the lost boys.
Wendy: Who are they?
Peter: They are the children who fall out of their perambulators when the nurse is looking the other way. If they are not claimed in seven days, they are sent to Neverland.
Wendy: Are there girls too?
Peter: Girls are much clever to fall out of their perambulators.
Wendy: Peter, it is perfectly lovely the way you talk about girls! (…) I should like to give you… a kiss. (…) Don’t you know what a kiss is?
Peter: I shall know when you give me one. (…) I suppose I have to give you one now.
Wendy: If you like… (…) Thank you! (…) How old are you, Peter?
Peter: Quite young.
Wendy: Don’t you know?
Peter: I ran away… One night, I heard my mother and father talking about what I was to be when I became a man. So I ran away to Kensington Gardens, and I met Tink.
Peter: Tinker Bell, she is my fairy.
Wendy: But, there’s no such a thing as…
Peter: Don’t say that! Every time somebody says that, a fairy, somewhere else, falls down dead. And, I shall never find her if she’s dead!
Wendy: You are telling me there’s a fairy in this room?
Peter: She came with me to hear your stories. I like the one about the prince who couldn’t find the lady, who wore glass slippers.
Wendy: Cinderella! Peter, he found her! And they… and they… lived happily ever after.
Peter: I knew it!
Wendy: Peter, I should like to give you a thimble.
Peter: What’s that?
Peter: Hey! (…) Tink, hey! (…) She’s not very polite. (…) She says that if you try to give me a thimble again, she’ll kill you.
Wendy: Oh, charming! (…) Peter! Don’t go!
Peter: I have to tell the others about Cinderella!
Wendy: But I know lots of stories! Stories I could tell the boys!
Peter: Come with me.
Wendy: I cannot fly.
Peter: I’ll teach you. I’ll teach you how to jump on the wind’s back, and then away we go.
Wendy: Could John and Michael come too?
Wendy: Michael, Michael! John, John! There is a boy here who is to teach us to fly!
John: Can you really fly? (…) I should like to learn too!
Peter: You just think lovely wonderful thoughts, and they lift you up in the air. It’s easy!
John: I’ve got it! I’ve got it! …swords, daggers, Napoleon!!! Yahoooo!!! Aaaaaah!!!
Michael: Wendy, Wendy! Watch me! Custard, tin soldiers, ice cream and not showering anymore! Wuhuuu!!!
Peter: Come away…! Come away to Neverland!
Wendy: Oh! What about mother…?
Peter: There are mermaids…!
Michael and John: Indians?!
Michael and John: Pirates?!
Peter: Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all! Come with me where you’ll never, never have to worry about grown up things again.
Wendy: Never is an awfully long time…
Peter: Me? Forget? Never.
Wendy: Will you ever come back?
Peter: To hear stories… About me!!