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J. M. Barrie - Sentimental ​Tommy
The ​celebrated Tommy first comes into view on a dirty London stair, and he was in sexless garments, which were all he had, and he was five, and so though we are looking at him, we must do it sideways, lest he sit down hurriedly to hide them. That inscrutable face, which made the clubmen of his later days uneasy and even puzzled the ladies while he was making love to them, was already his, except when he smiled at one of his pretty thoughts or stopped at an open door to sniff a potful. On his way up and down the stair he often paused to sniff, but he never asked for anything; his mother had warned him against it, and he carried out her injunction with almost unnecessary spirit, declining offers before they were made, as when passing a room, whence came the smell of fried fish, he might call in, "I don't not want none of your fish," or "My mother says I don't not want the littlest bit," or wistfully, "I ain't hungry," or more wistfully still, "My mother says I ain't hungry." His mother heard of this and was angry, crying that he had let the neighbors know something she was anxious to conceal, but what he had revealed to them Tommy could not make out, and when he questioned her artlessly, she took him with sudden passion to her flat breast, and often after that she looked at him long and woefully and wrung her hands.

J. M. Barrie - Quality ​Street
The ​scene is the blue and white room in the house of the Misses Susan and Phoebe Throssel in Quality Street; and in this little country town there is a satisfaction about living in Quality Street which even religion cannot give. Through the bowed window at the back we have a glimpse of the street. It is pleasantly broad and grass-grown, and is linked to the outer world by one demure shop, whose door rings a bell every time it opens and shuts. Thus by merely peeping, every one in Quality Street can know at once who has been buying a Whimsy cake, and usually why. This bell is the most familiar sound of Quality Street. Now and again ladies pass in their pattens, a maid perhaps protecting them with an umbrella, for flakes of snow are falling discreetly. Gentlemen in the street are an event; but, see, just as we raise the curtain, there goes the recruiting sergeant to remind us that we are in the period of the Napoleonic wars. If he were to look in at the window of the blue and white room all the ladies there assembled would draw themselves up; they know him for a rude fellow who smiles at the approach of maiden ladies and continues to smile after they have passed. However, he lowers his head to-day so that they shall not see him, his present design being converse with the Misses Throssel's maid.

J. M. Barrie - Dear ​Brutus
The ​scene is a darkened room, which the curtain reveals so stealthily that if there was a mouse on the stage it is there still. Our object is to catch our two chief characters unawares; they are Darkness and Light. The room is so obscure as to be invisible, but at the back of the obscurity are French windows, through which is seen Lob's garden bathed in moon-shine. The Darkness and Light, which this room and garden represent, are very still, but we should feel that it is only the pause in which old enemies regard each other before they come to the grip. The moonshine stealing about among the flowers, to give them their last instructions, has left a smile upon them, but it is a smile with a menace in it for the dwellers in darkness. What we expect to see next is the moonshine slowly pushing the windows open, so that it may whisper to a confederate in the house, whose name is Lob. But though we may be sure that this was about to happen it does not happen; a stir among the dwellers in darkness prevents it.

J. M. Barrie - What ​Every Woman Knows
James ​Wylie is about to make a move on the dambrod, and in the little Scotch room there is an awful silence befitting the occasion. James with his hand poised—for if he touches a piece he has to play it, Alick will see to that—raises his red head suddenly to read Alick's face. His father, who is Alick, is pretending to be in a panic lest James should make this move. James grins heartlessly, and his fingers are about to close on the 'man' when some instinct of self-preservation makes him peep once more. This time Alick is caught: the unholy ecstasy on his face tells as plain as porridge that he has been luring James to destruction. James glares; and, too late, his opponent is a simple old father again. James mops his head, sprawls in the manner most conducive to thought in the Wylie family, and, protruding his underlip, settles down to a reconsideration of the board. Alick blows out his cheeks, and a drop of water settles on the point of his nose.

J. M. Barrie - A ​Window in Thrums
On ​the bump of green round which the brae twists, at the top of the brae, and within cry of T'nowhead Farm, still stands a one-storey house, whose whitewashed walls, streaked with the discoloration that rain leaves, look yellow when the snow comes. In the old days the stiff ascent left Thrums behind, and where is now the making of a suburb was only a poor row of dwellings and a manse, with Hendry's cot to watch the brae. The house stood bare, without a shrub, in a garden whose paling did not go all the way round, the potato pit being only kept out of the road, that here sets off southward, by a broken dyke of stones and earth. On each side of the slate-coloured door was a window of knotted glass. Ropes were flung over the thatch to keep the roof on in wind.

J. M. Barrie - Tommy ​and Grizel
O.P. ​Pym, the colossal Pym, that vast and rolling figure, who never knew what he was to write about until he dipped grandly, an author in such demand that on the foggy evening which starts our story his publishers have had his boots removed lest he slip thoughtlessly round the corner before his work is done, as was the great man's way—shall we begin with him, or with Tommy, who has just arrived in London, carrying his little box and leading a lady by the hand? It was Pym, as we are about to see, who in the beginning held Tommy up to the public gaze, Pym who first noticed his remarkable indifference to female society, Pym who gave him——But alack! does no one remember Pym for himself? Is the king of the Penny Number already no more than a button that once upon a time kept Tommy's person together? And we are at the night when they first met! Let us hasten into Marylebone before little Tommy arrives and Pym is swallowed like an oyster.

J. M. Barrie - Auld ​Licht Idylls
Early ​this morning I opened a window in my schoolhouse in the glen of Quharity, awakened by the shivering of a starving sparrow against the frosted glass. As the snowy sash creaked in my hand, he made off to the water-spout that suspends its "tangles" of ice over a gaping tank, and, rebounding from that, with a quiver of his little black breast, bobbed through the network of wire and joined a few of his fellows in a forlorn hop round the henhouse in search of food. Two days ago my hilarious bantam-cock, saucy to the last, my cheeriest companion, was found frozen in his own water-trough, the corn-saucer in three pieces by his side. Since then I have taken the hens into the house. At meal-times they litter the hearth with each other's feathers; but for the most part they give little trouble, roosting on the rafters of the low-roofed kitchen among staves and fishing-rods.

J. M. Barrie - The ​Little Minister
The ​Little Minister is set in Thrums, a Scottish weaving village based on Barrie’s birthplace, and concerns Gavin Dishart, a young impoverished minister with his first congregation. The weavers he serves soon riot in protest against reductions in their wages and harsh working conditions.

J. M. Barrie - The ​Little White Bird
The ​introduction of Peter Pan and his magical world has made The Little White Bird from J. M. Barrie one of the works that will last for generations. Filled with fantasy and whimsy this little book will thrill children and adults alike and be one of your families favorites for years to come.

J. M. Barrie - Margaret ​Ogilvy
On ​the day I was born we bought six hair-bottomed chairs, and in our little house it was an event, the first great victory in a woman’s long campaign; how they had been laboured for, the pound-note and the thirty threepenny-bits they cost, what anxiety there was about the purchase, the show they made in possession of the west room, my father’s unnatural coolness when he brought them in (but his face was white)—I so often heard the tale afterwards, and shared as boy and man in so many similar triumphs, that the coming of the chairs seems to be something I remember, as if I had jumped out of bed on that first day, and run ben to see how they looked. I am sure my mother’s feet were ettling to be ben long before they could be trusted, and that the moment after she was left alone with me she was discovered barefooted in the west room, doctoring a scar (which she had been the first to detect) on one of the chairs, or sitting on them regally, or withdrawing and re-opening the door suddenly to take the six by surprise. And then, I think, a shawl was flung over her (it is strange to me to think it was not I who ran after her with the shawl), and she was escorted sternly back to bed and reminded that she had promised not to budge, to which her reply was probably that she had been gone but an instant, and the implication that therefore she had not been gone at all. Thus was one little bit of her revealed to me at once: I wonder if I took note of it.

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J. M. Barrie - Courage
To ​the Red Gowns of St. Andrews Canada, 1922 You have had many rectors here in St. Andrews who will continue in bloom long after the lowly ones such as I am are dead and rotten and forgotten. They are the roses in December; you remember someone said that God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December. But I do not envy the great ones. In my experience—and you may find in the end it is yours also—the people I have cared for most and who have seemed most worth caring for—my December roses—have been very simple folk. Yet I wish that for this hour I could swell into someone of importance, so as to do you credit. I suppose you had a melting for me because I was hewn out of one of your own quarries, walked similar academic groves, and have trudged the road on which you will soon set forth. I would that I could put into your hands a staff for that somewhat bloody march, for though there is much about myself that I conceal from other people, to help you I would expose every cranny of my mind.

J. M. Barrie - Peter ​and Wendy
All ​children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, 'Oh, why can't you remain like this for ever!' This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end. Of course they lived at 14, and until Wendy came her mother was the chief one. She was a lovely lady, with a romantic mind and such a sweet mocking mouth. Her romantic mind was like the tiny boxes, one within the other, that come from the puzzling East, however many you discover there is always one more; and her sweet mocking mouth had one kiss on it that Wendy could never get, though there it was, perfectly conspicuous in the right-hand corner.

J. M. Barrie - Echoes ​of the War
Three ​nice old ladies and a criminal, who is even nicer, are discussing the war over a cup of tea. The criminal, who is the hostess, calls it a dish of tea, which shows that she comes from Caledonia; but that is not her crime. They are all London charwomen, but three of them, including the hostess, are what are called professionally 'charwomen and' or simply 'ands.' An 'and' is also a caretaker when required; her name is entered as such in ink in a registry book, financial transactions take place across a counter between her and the registrar, and altogether she is of a very different social status from one who, like Mrs. Haggerty, is a charwoman but nothing else. Mrs. Haggerty, though present, is not at the party by invitation; having seen Mrs. Dowey buying the winkles, she followed her downstairs, so has shuffled into the play and sat down in it against our wish. We would remove her by force, or at least print her name in small letters, were it not that she takes offence very readily and says that nobody respects her. So, as you have slipped in, you sit there, Mrs. Haggerty; but keep quiet.

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J. M. Barrie - Peter ​Pan
This ​is a timeless classic of children's literature in an exquisite full colour edition that will be cherished by all ages. It is fully illustrated with distinctive stained edging and decorative endpapers. It is suitable for children aged 10 to 13 years old. Neverland is home to Peter Pan, a young boy who has never grown up. On one of his visits to London, Peter makes the acquaintance of young Wendy Darling, whom he invites to travel with him to Neverland and become the mother of his gang of Lost Boys. Flying through the night sky to Neverland, Wendy and her brothers John and Michael are soon caught up in marvellous adventures with the Indian Princess Tiger Lily, the loyal fairy Tinker Bell and Peter's nemesis, a sinister hook-handed pirate known as Captain Hook. Spun by J.M. Barrie from his stage play of the same name, „Peter Pan” is a timeless classic of children's literature. Illustrated with plates by F.D. Bedford, this exquisite full-colour edition features an elegant bonded-leather binding, a satin-ribbon bookmark, distinctive stained edging and decorative endpapers. It's a book that will be cherished by readers of all ages.

J. M. Barrie - Peter Pan
Ehhez a könyvhöz nincs fülszöveg, de ettől függetlenül még rukkolható/happolható.

J. M. Barrie - Peter ​Pan in Kensington Gardens
Perhaps ​she has forgotten, just as she sometimes forgets your name and calls you Mildred, which is your mother's name. Still, she could hardly forget such an important thing as the goat. Therefore there was no goat when your grandmother was a little girl. This shows that, in telling the story of Peter Pan, to begin with the goat (as most people do) is as silly as to put on your jacket before your vest.

J. M. Barrie - Pán ​Péter a Kensington parkban
Ha ​megkérdezitek édesanyátokat, hallott-e kicsi korában Peter Panről, bizonyára így válaszol: - Hát hogyne hallottam volna, fiacskám! És ha azt is megkérditek, hogy akkoriban Peter Pan kecskén lovagolt-e, bizonyára így fog válaszolni: - Hogy is lehet ilyet kérdezni?! Hát persze, hogy kecskén járt! Aztán megkérdezhetitek nagymamátokat is, hallott-e kicsi korában Peter Panről, és ő is így fog válaszolni: - Hogyne, fiacskám, hallottam. Ám ha azt is megkérditek tőle, hogy Peter Pan akkor is kecskén lovagolt-e, bizonyára azt fogja mondani, hogy nem tud semmiféle kecskéről. Meglehet, hogy elfeledte, mint ahogy unokáját is néha Mildrednek szólítja, pedig a saját lányát hívják így. De hogyan lehet elfelejteni olyan fontos dolgot, mint a kecske? Ezek szerint a nagymamátok gyermekkorában Peter Pan még nem lovagolt kecskén. Ha tehát Peter Panről mesélnétek neki és a kecskével kezdenétek, éppolyan fonák dolog sülne ki, mint ha - tegyük fel - kabátra húznátok mellényt. Persze, mindez azt is jelentené, hogy Peter Pan olyan öreg, mint az országútja; de hát neki nincs is életkora; úgyhogy ez a kérdés elesik. Ő csak egyhetes, és bármilyen régen született, még sohasem volt születésnapja, és nem hiszem, hogy lenne ezután valaha is. Mindez pedig amiatt, mert egyhetes korában már lemondott arról, hogy felnőtt legyen belőle, és kiröpült az ablakon egyenesen a Kensington Parkba.

J. M. Barrie - The ​Plays of J. M. Barrie: Peter Pan
Ehhez a könyvhöz nincs fülszöveg, de ettől függetlenül még rukkolható/happolható.

J. M. Barrie - Ilse Binting - Pán ​Péter
Pán ​Péter története a Disney-film elkészülte óta a legismertebb gyermek-klasszikusok közé tartozik. Varázslatos, izgalmas kalandjait Ilse Binting átdolgozásában adjuk közre. Egy éjszaka beröppen a Darling gyerekek otthonába Pán Péter, aki sosem akar felnőtté válni, és magával viszi őket a Seholsincs-szigetre. Kampó kapitány elrabolja Vandát. Péter a nyomába ered. Vajon sikerül-e legyőznie a gonosz kalózt, hogy a gyerekek visszajuthassanak az otthonukba?

J. M. Barrie - Peter ​Pan és Wendy
"Mindenki ​tudja, hogy a gyerekeknek egyszer fel kell nőni. Régesrégen tudta ezt Wendy is. De nem sokat foglalkozott vele, amíg nem találkozott Peter Pannal! Wendy Londonban élt egy magas házban, a mamájával és a papájával - Darling úrral és Darling asszonnyal - meg a két öccsével. Wendy volt a legidősebb. Azután következett John és Michael. Darlingné szép, ábrándos hölgy volt, aki szerette a gyerekeit. Darling úr is szerette a gyerekeit, csak nem ugyanúgy, merthogy ő mindig a pénz után törte magát."

J. M. Barrie - Pán ​Péter
Egyedülálló ​képeskönyvet tart kezében az olvasó, aki eddig jobbára csak átdolgozásokból ismerhette a felnőni nem akaró kisfiú, Pán Péter történetét. J. M. Barrie két kisregényének magyarul most először olvasható teljes fordítása egy különleges, ellentmondásokkal és humorral átszőtt világot tár elénk, ahol bármi megtörténhet. Ezt a korlátok nélküli fantáziavilágot elveszett gyerekek, manók, tündérek, indiánok és kalózok népesítik be, újabb és újabb kalandra hívva Pán Pétert és a fiatalabb olvasók generációit, no meg persze azokat az idősebbeket, akik jól tudják, milyen fontos, hogy felnőttként is megőrizzünk valamit gyermeki énünkből. James Matthew Barrie (1860-1937) skót regény- és drámaíró. Edinburgh-ban tanult irodalmat, majd Londonba költözött. A londoni Kensington-kertben ismerkedett meg a Davies gyerekekkel, akik rendszeresen játszottak a parkban. Barrie a család jó barátja lett, és a fiúk szórakoztatására találta ki a Pán Péter-történeteket. Az illusztrációkról: A Pán Péter illusztrációi napfényből és árnyékból szövődtek egy régi fotográfiai eljárás, a cianotípia segítségével. Ezt a technikát Barrie kortársa, Anna Atkins angol botanikus és fotográfus emelte a művészi grafika szintjére. A technika választását a felnőni nem akaró, árnyékát elvesztő főhős analógiája ihlette; az, hogy a Pán Péter-elbeszélések eseményei jelentős részben éjszaka játszódnak, már csak apró részlet, ami szépen illeszkedett a sötét ciánkékek spektrumába. Simonyi Cecília az Óbudai Képzőművészeti Szakiskolában, valamint a Ghenti Képzőművészeti Akadémián tanult képgrafikát és grafikát. A cianotípia technikáját a Fotófaluban - a Telek Balázs fotóművész nevéhez fűződő nyári alkotótáborban - Laczkó Péter képfényezőtől tanulta.

J. M. Barrie - Peter ​Pan (német)
Mit ​Peter Pans Suche nach seinem Schatten im Kinderzimmer von Wendy, John und Michael Darling beginnt eine der bekanntesten klassischen Erzählungen, die seit nunmehr 100 Jahren die Fantasie von Jung und Alt beflügelt. Wendy und ihre beiden Brüder begleiten Peter ins Nimmerland. Auf der zauberhaften Insel haben sie zusammen mit den »verlorenen Jungen« und der spitzbübischen Fee Glöckchen eine Reihe spannender Abenteuer zu bestehen. Gemeinsam treffen sie auf Meerjungfrauen, tapfere Indianer und natürlich die Piraten der Jolly Roger und ihren berüchtigten Anführer Kapitän Hook, dessen Schicksal in den Händen eines krähenden Jungen und eines tickenden Krokodils liegt.

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