Tinker Bell Quotes

Quotes tagged as "tinker-bell" Showing 1-26 of 26
Jodi Lynn Anderson
“Sometimes I think that maybe we are just stories. Like we may as well just be words on a page, because we're only what we've done and what we are going to do.”
Jodi Lynn Anderson, Tiger Lily

J.M. Barrie
“Tink was not all bad: or, rather, she was all bad just now, but, on the other hand, sometimes she was all good. Fairies have to be one thing or the other, because being so small they unfortunately have room for one feeling only at a time. They are, however, allowed to change, only it must be a complete change.”
J M Barrie, Peter Pan

Jodi Lynn Anderson
“How can I describe Peter's face, the pieces of him that stick to my heart? Peter sometimes looked aloof and distant; sometimes his face was open and soft as a bruise. Sometimes he looked completely at Tiger Lily, as if she were the point on which all the universe revolved, as if she were the biggest mystery of life, or as if she were a flame and he couldn't not look even though he was scared. And sometimes it would all disappear into carelessness, confidence, amusement, as if he didn't need anyone or anything on this earth to feel happy and alive.”
Jodi Lynn Anderson, Tiger Lily

Jodi Lynn Anderson
“A faerie heart is different from a human heart. Human hearts are elastic. They have room for all sorts of passions, and they can break and heal and love again and again. Faerie hearts are evolutionarily less sophisticated. They are small and hard, like tiny grains of sand. Our hearts are too small to love more than one person in a lifetime.”
Jodi Lynn Anderson, Tiger Lily

J.M. Barrie
“You just think lovely wonderful thoughts," Peter explained, "and they lift you up in the air.”
J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

Jodi Lynn Anderson
“Why does this faerie follow you everywhere?" he asked. "Do you think she's plotting to murder you in your sleep?" he teased. My wings and the tips of my feet tingled with anger. But then he reached a finger toward me gently, and the anger melted. "Let's name her Tinker Bell," he said, like I was their child. He swooped his hand underneath me. "Hi, little Tink." Hearing him say it thrilled me-a name Peter had invented, just for me.”
Jodi Lynn Anderson, Tiger Lily

Jodi Lynn Anderson
“It was like this sometimes, and I felt I should look away, but I couldn't. I wanted to be there, having my face touched, defeating a heart like Peter's, but the next best thing was seeing it for Tiger Lily.”
Jodi Lynn Anderson, Tiger Lily

Jodi Lynn Anderson
“You may think my jealousy would have been enormous during those days after Peter gave Tiger Lily the smallest kiss on the neck. And you would be right. But these moments were swallowed by a bigger emotion, my tenderness for Tiger Lily, which had grown to take up most of the space in my body, without me knowing it. I can't say I didn't dream that this was a passing moment of infatuation, and that eventually Peter would notice and pick me-as impossible as that might have seemed considering my size. But I felt protective of Tiger Lily. I felt that just by watching over her, I could somehow keep her safe. And I wanted to keep Peter safe too.”
Jodi Lynn Anderson, Tiger Lily

Jodi Lynn Anderson
“She stands on the cliffs, near the old crumbling stone house. There's nothing left in the house but an upturned table, a ladle, and a clay bowl. She stands for more than an hour, goose-bumped and shivering. At these times, she won't confide in me. She runs her hands over her body, as if checking that it's still there, her heart pulsing and beating. The limbs are smooth and strong, thin and sinewy, her hair long and black and messy and gleaming despite her age. You wouldn't know it to look at her, that she's lived long enough to look for what's across the water. Eighty years later, and she is still fifteen.”
Jodi Lynn Anderson, Tiger Lily

Silvia Flores
“Love, Trust & Pixie Dust !”
Silvia Flores , Blood and Dust

Jodi Lynn Anderson
“Faeries can be unfailingly loyal, even, apparently, to someone who doesn't seem to notice them. And I felt loyal to the girl with the crow feather in her hair.”
Jodi Lynn Anderson, Tiger Lily

“Aren’t faeries supposed to be, like, really tiny? With wings and a wand and faerie dust?”

“I’m not Tinker Bell!”
Rachel Morgan

Jodi Lynn Anderson
“P.S Please give my love to Tink. She was always such a funny little bug.”
Jodi Lynn Anderson, Tiger Lily

Jodi Lynn Anderson
And when she surfaces from her dream, she calls me by my old name, though no one uses it anymore. And she turns to me, her eyelashes fluttering in the glare that surrounds me, and whispers to me in one short syllable. Tink.”
Jodi Lynn Anderson, Tiger Lily

Jodi Lynn Anderson
“From above, the world looks orderly. That is one of the primary benefits of having wings. Being high shapes everything below into peaceful patterns. And even though you know there is chaos below, messiness everywhere, it is reassuring to sometimes think that it all eventually sorts itself out into something that looks elegant.”
Jodi Lynn Anderson, Tiger Lily

Liz Braswell
“The one who answered his questions certainly had pointed ears, though the same observer might be hard pressed to make out any ears- or actual answers at all. The boy spoke to what appeared to be little more than a golden light that bobbled and sparkled and tinkled like bells. In fact, the whole scene resembled a mesmerist quizzing a pendulum held from a long golden chain, glittering in the sunlight, whose vague swings returned meanings known only to the occultist himself.
But upon looking more closely, one would see that inside the golden bauble was a tiny woman with very pointed ears, a serious face, a green dress, and sparkling wings. Her body was like a series of energetic globes, from her golden hair in its messy bun to her hips to the round silver bells that decorated her shoes. Throughout the conversation every part of her was as animated as her friend's face.”
Liz Braswell, Straight On Till Morning

Liz Braswell
“The fairy- again, Wendy assumed- was an angry tinkling ball of light with the prettiest girl imaginable inside. Diminutive but... solid, with a scandalous lack of decorous dress. All she wore was a ragged green shift which barely covered her hips and thighs and breasts and was gathered dangerously over only one shoulder. This was both shocking and delightful; it made the tiny creature resemble statues of ancient nymphs and nereids Wendy had seen. Her hair was even done up in classical style, a goddess-like bun of hair so golden it glowed. Tiny pointed ears curved their way through the few dangling tresses. Her eyes were enormous and not even remotely human: they were far apart and glaring.
The crowning glory was, of course, a pair of delicate iridescent wings sprouting from her back. Their shape was somewhere between butterfly and dragonfly. They were clear as glass and thin as onion skin.”
Liz Braswell, Straight On Till Morning

Liz Braswell
“The fairy was flying in loops and swirls around her, shedding fairy dust as she went. Throwing it at Wendy.
Delighted, the human girl raised her arms up to fully experience what was happening. Delicate golden sparkles floated down and kissed her skin. Where they touched, Wendy felt lighter. Tiny pains she hadn't even realized she felt entirely disappeared, and any weariness vanished. She felt rested, energetic, and- airy.”
Liz Braswell, Straight On Till Morning

J.M. Barrie
“And so," he went on good-naturedly, "there ought to be one fairy for every boy and girl."
"Ought to be? Isn't there?"
"No. You see children know such a lot now, they soon don't believe in fairies, and every time a child says, 'I don't believe in fairies,' there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead.”
J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

J.M. Barrie
“Don't you understand? You mean more to me that anything in this entire world.”
J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

Liz Braswell
“The fairy let her go and pulled aside a piece of bright gold-and-pink silk hanging on the wall. Behind it was the fairy's own private room.
She had a soft bed of bright green moss with several iridescent feathers for a counterpane. A shelf mushroom served as an actual shelf displaying an assortment of dried flowers and pretty gewgaws the fairy had collected. There was a charming little dining table, somewhat bold in irony: It was the cheery but deadly red-and-white amanita. The wide top was set with an acorn cap bowl and jingle shell charger. In the corner, a beautifully curved, bright green leaf collected drops from somewhere in the celling much like the water barrel did, but this was obviously for discreet fairy bathing. An assortment of tiny buds, rough seeds, and spongy moss were arranged neatly on a piece of gray driftwood nearby to aid in cleansing.”
Liz Braswell, Straight On Till Morning

Liz Braswell
“What Wendy felt was a spray of something that could only be described as golden. Light, effervescent, slightly dry. Fuzzy, like the horrible mineral waters Mother sometimes made Father take to aid his digestion. But not with the terrible metallic taste. For the brief moment she could taste anything at all, it was sweet- or no, maybe sour like lemons. No, not that, either- more like sparks from a fire.”
Liz Braswell, Straight On Till Morning

Liz Braswell
“Where do fairies come from?" she asked, thinking it was the simplest entry into a complicated subject.
The first laugh of a baby. A special baby. So they say. Tinker Bell smiled wryly. We are here, we appear, sometimes there are more of us. I awoke under a leaf, curled up like a drop of dew, complete. Tinker Bell!
Liz Braswell, Straight On Till Morning

Liz Braswell
“Tinker Bell, meanwhile, was drifting with purpose up to the highest leafy branches of the jungle. Her light glowed warmly off the leaves below, the droplets seeping off their thick veins, the sweet sap running down the trunks of the trees. It made the whole clearing look...
Well, like it was touched by fairies, Wendy thought with a smile.
All her life she had looked for fairies in more mundane places, experiencing a rush of hope and warmth whenever a scene even palely imitated the one before here now. Candles at Christmas, fireflies in the park, flickering lamps in teahouses. The sparkling leaded glass windows of a sweets shop on winter afternoons when dusk came at four. A febrile, glowing crisscross of threads on a rotten log her cousin had once shown her out in the country: fox fire, magical mushrooms.
And here it was, for real! Tinker Bell was performing what appeared to be a slow and majestic dance. First, she moved to specific points in the air around her, perhaps north, south, east, and west, twirling a little at each stop. Then she flew back to the center and made a strange bowing motion, keeping her tiny feet daintily together and putting her arms out gracefully like a swan. As she completed each movement, fairy dust fell from her wings in glittering, languorous trails, hanging in the air just long enough to form shapes. She started the dance over again, faster this time.
And again even faster. Her trail of sparkles almost resolved into a picture, crisscrossed lines constantly flowing slowly down like drips of luminous paint.
Wendy felt a bit like John, overwhelmed with a desire to try to reduce and explain and thereby translate the magic. But she also felt a lot like Michael, with an almost overwhelming urge to break free from her hiding place and see it up close, to feel the sparkles on her nose, to run a hand through the sigils not for the purpose of destruction but form a hapless, joyful desire to be part of it all.”
Liz Braswell, Straight On Till Morning

Liz Braswell
I know the call, sister. I am fairy.
Really? I haven't seen you at any of the midseason fetes, or the blossom gatherings, or the acorn hunts, or...
I don't like crowds.
You don't seem to like much of what it means to be fairy.

More and more was revealed about Wendy's temperamental little friend! Fairies were apparently gregarious- social creatures, like people. Or horses. Not the lonely solitary haunters of hills and isolated groves Wendy had imagined, who came together for the rare dance around a ring of mushrooms.
But Tinker Bell obviously shunned the company of others like herself, preferring the company of a few giant humans like Peter Pan.”
Liz Braswell, Straight On Till Morning

Liz Braswell
“Tinker Bell hesitantly leaned over. She kissed him ever so gently on the lower lip.
A fairy kiss, invisible and seemingly ephemeral, whose effects and existence would last as long as pixie dust.
Perhaps his breathing eased. Perhaps he looked a trifle more peaceful, despite his eyes rolling beneath their lids.
She wondered what it meant, the touch of human lips on her own- if it left any trace on her.”
Liz Braswell, Straight On Till Morning