MRS. DARLING: I thought all the fairies were dead.
WENDY: (almost reprovingly) No indeed! Their mothers drop the babies into the Never birds’ nests, all mixed up with the eggs, and the mauve fairies are boys and the white ones are girls, and there are some colours who don’t know what they are.
J. M. Barrie (1860-1937) Scottish novelist and dramatist [James Matthew Barrie]
Peter Pan, Act 5 (1904, pub. 1928)
(Source)
In Barrie's 1911 novelization, Peter and Wendy, ch. 17 "When Wendy Grew Up," this is rendered:“I thought all the fairies were dead,” Mrs. Darling said.
“There are always a lot of young ones,” explained Wendy, who was now quite an authority, “because you see when a new baby laughs for the first time a new fairy is born, and as there are always new babies there are always new fairies. They live in nests on the tops of trees; and the mauve ones are boys and the white ones are girls, and the blue ones are just little sillies who are not sure what they are.”
Quotations about:
color
Note not all quotations have been tagged, so Search may find additional quotes on this topic.
CALVIN: Dad, how come old photographs are always black and white? Didn’t they have color film back then?
CALVIN’S DAD: Sure they did. In fact, those old photographs are in color. It’s just the world was black and white then.
CALVIN: Really?
CALVIN’S DAD: Yep. The world didn’t turn color until sometime in the 1930s, and it was pretty grainy color for a while, too.
CALVIN: That’s really weird.
CALVIN’S DAD: Well, truth is stranger than fiction.
CALVIN: But then why are old paintings in color?! If the world was black and white, wouldn’t artists have painted it that way?
CALVIN’S DAD: Not necessarily. A lot of great artists were insane.
CALVIN: But … but how could they have painted in color anyway? Wouldn’t their paints have been shades of gray back then?
CALVIN’S DAD: Of course, but they turned colors like everything did in the ’30s.
CALVIN: So why didn’t old black and white photos turn color, too?
CALVIN’S DAD: Because they were color pictures of black and white, remember?
CALVIN [Later, in a tree]: The world is a complicated place, Hobbes.
HOBBES: Whenever it seems that way, I take a nap in a tree and wait for dinner.
I know the colour rose, and it is lovely,
But not when it ripens in a tumour;
And healing greens, leaves and grass, so springlike,
In Limbs that fester are not springlike.Daniel "Dannie" Abse (1923-2014) Welsh poet
Poem (1968), “Pathology of Colours,” Dannie Abse
(Source)
