OB40mukEXQ6QZ1740xdjwF1LEQ4 Quote to Remember: FINDING NEVERLAND [2004]


Sunday, February 10, 2013


How Far Can Your Imagination Take You

 James: We'll get them with the next one, Charles, I promise.
Charles: Of course we will, James.
James: I know you put a lot into this one.
Charles: A fortune, James, but I am fortunate because I can afford to lose a fortune.
James: Can you?
Charles: No, I can't.

James, to Porthos: Now, I want you to pay particular attention to the teeth.
Some unscrupulous trainers will show you a bear whose teeth have all been pulled,
while other cowards will force the brute into a muzzle. 
Only the true master would attempt these tricks without either measure of safety.
Peter, to his mom: What did you bring me over here for?
This is absurd. It's just a dog.
James: "Just a dog"? "Just"?
Porthos don't listen to him.
Porthos dreams of being a bear and you want to dash those dreams by saying he's "just a dog"?
What a horrible, candle-snuffing word.
That's like saying, "He can't climb that mountain, he's just a man."
Or, "That's not a diamond, it's just a rock."
Peter: Fine then. Turn him into a bear, if you can.
James: With those eyes, my bonny lad, I'm afraid you'd never see it. 
However, with just a wee bit of imagination, 
I can turn around right now and see the great bear, Porthos.

Sylvia: Peter's a different boy since his father died.
You know, I don't think he's even had a good cry about it.
James: Grief affects us all in different ways, doesn't it?
Sylvia: Yes, it does.

James: Listen, what would you think of loaning Emma out to the Davies for the occasional evening?
They don't actually have a cook.
Mary: I take it Mrs. Davies enjoyed the meal that she had here?
James: I imagine she could use an extra hand now and again, that's all.
Mary: That's very charitable of you.
Perhaps we can send over some of the silver as well. 
And what about linen? I wouldn't be surprised if some of hers was looking a bit shabby.
 James: Please, Mary, stop.
Mary: Maybe she can send over some of the things we've run short on.
My husband, for example. We rarely see him in this house.
James: That hasn't seemed to bother you for some time now.

Sylvia: I'm afraid I've grown hopelessly lax in my discipline.
James: Nonsense.
Young boys should never be sent to bed. They always wake up a day older.
And then, before you know it, they're grown.

Sylvia: You mean a lot to my boys, you know. Especially Peter.
James: It seems to me that Peter's trying to grow up too fast.
I imagine he thinks that grown-ups don't hurt as deeply as children do when they lose someone.

Arthur: You should be aware though, James, what some people have been saying.
Mind you, I wouldn't bring it up if I thought the rumors would pass.
James: I'm not surprised. What are they saying?
Arthur: That you spend much more time with Mrs. Davies than you do with your own wife.
She's a widow, and...
James: And a friend, that's it. Nothing more.
Arthur: There have also been questions about how you spend your time with those boys. And why.
James: That's outrageous. How could anyone think something so evil?
They're children. They're innocent children.
You find a glimmer of happiness in this world, there's always someone who wants to destroy it.
No, thank you, Arthur, but I don't think many will give credence to such nonsense.
Arthur: Then why is no one sitting with them?
Once you get a bit of notoriety, James, people watch you and they will look for ways to drag you down.

Peter: What did you and mother decide to tell us this time? "It's only a chest cold"?
James: We hadn't decided anything.
Peter: Stop lying to me! I'm sick of grown-ups lying to me.
James: I'm not lying to you. I don't know what's wrong.
Peter: "Father might take us fishing," that's what she said. "In just a few weeks".
And he died the next morning.
James: That wasn't a lie, Peter. That was your mother's hope.
Peter: He barely moved for a week, but I started planning out fishing trip.
James: I will never lie to you, I promise you that.
Peter: No. All you'll do is teach me to make up stupid stories and pretend that things aren't happening until...
[tear up his journal] I won't! I'm not blind! I won't be made a fool!

James: I was only trying to help, as a friend.
Mrs. du Maurier: Have you no idea how much your friendship has already cost my daughter?
Or are you really that selfish?
James: I beg your pardon?
Mrs. du Maurier: Don't you see, what a visit to the summer cottage of a married man does
for a widow's future prospects?
Sylvia needs to find someone. The boys need a father.
And you are destroying any hope this family has of pulling itself together again.
James: I have only wanted good things for this family, Mrs du Maurier.
Mrs. du Maurier: I'll look after them.
You have your own family to concern yourself with.
James: What are you suggesting?
Mrs. du Maurier: I'm suggesting that you protect what you have, Mr. Barrie.
That is precisely what I am doing.

Mary: I was hopelessly naive when I married you.
I imagined that brilliant people disappeared to some secret place
where good ideas floated around like leaves in autumn.
And I hoped, at least once, you would take me there with you.
James: There is no such place.
Mary: Yes, there is.
It's the best you've written, James.
And I'm sure the Davies will adore the world you've created for them.
I only wish I were part of it.
James: I've wanted you to be, I've tried.
Mary, I always imagined us going off on great adventure once we were together.
But we moved into this house and you started, I don't know, you started rearranging the furniture.
Mary: What was I supposed to do, James?
You were always gone.
James: I was right here.
Mary: Sitting in your parlor, staring off into other worlds as though I didn't exist.
James: Look, just give me bit more time to finish up the play.
Mary: To spend with your muse?
No, I'm tired of waiting, James. I'm tired of looking like a fool.
James: I can't very well give up the play.
Mary: Of course not.
Just come home to me at the end of the day.
Rehearse and be home for dinner.
No more trips to the country, no more long afternoons in the park.
If you can't give us that much of a chance, then we must end this. And I will.

James: They can see it, you know. You can't go on just pretending.
Sylvia: "Just pretending"?
You brought pretending into this family, James.
You showed us we can change things by simply believing them to be different.
James: A lot of things, Sylvia, not everything.
Sylvia: But the things that matter.
We've pretended for some time now that you're a part of this family, haven't we?
You've come to mean so much to us all that now it doesn't matter if it's true.
And even if it isn't true, even if that can never be, I need to go on pretending, until the end, with you.

James: How are you?
Mary: I'm fine. How are you?
James: I'm sorry.
Mary: Don't be.
Without that family, you could never have written anything like this. You need them.

James: Where's Mr. Snow this evening?
Mrs. Snow: Oh, I'm afraid he's left us.
And he would so have loved this evening. The pirates and the Indians.
He was really just a boy himself, you know, to the very end.
James: I'm terribly sorry. How are you doing?
Mrs. Snow: I'm doing well enough now, thank you.
I suppose it's all the work of the ticking crocodile, isn't it?
Time is chasing after all of us, isn't that right?
James: That's right, Mrs. Snow.

James: What did you think?
Peter: It's about our summer together, isn't it?
James: It is.
Peter: About all of us.
James: That's right. Did you like it?
Peter: It's magical. Thank you.
James: Oh, thank you. Thank you, Peter.
Woman: This is Peter Pan, how wonderful.
Man: Really? You're Peter Pan? Why, you must be quite the little adventurer.
Woman: Look, it's true, he has no shadow.
Peter: But I'm not Peter Pan. [point to James] He is.

Peter: I'm sorry I was so horrible.
James: Don't worry.
Peter: It's just... I thought she'd always be here.
James: So did I.
But in fact, she is. Because she's on every page of your imagination.
You'll always have her there. Always.

Peter: Why did she have to die?
James: I don't know, boy.
When I think of your mother, I will always remember how happy she looked sitting there in the parlor,
watching a play about her family.
About her boys that never grew up.
She went to Neverland.
And you can visit her any time you like if you just go there yourself.
Peter: How?
James: By believing, Peter. Just believe.


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