Tinker Bell Quotes

“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

“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

“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

“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

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

“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

“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

“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

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

“Somehow, this pirate had managed to steal something she never planned to lose - her heart.”
― Megan Van Dyke, Second Star to the Left

“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

“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

“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

“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

“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

“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

“If you thought to leave me now, I might tie you to the bed again.
Filthy pirate.
Aye, but you love me anyway.”
― Megan Van Dyke, Second Star to the Left

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

“I’m not Tinker Bell!”
― Rachel Morgan

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

“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

“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

“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

“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

“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

“One look and she'd hooked Hook. [...] Before he lowered his drink, Tink twisted around back to her mug warming on the bar. Warm ale and filthy pirates. Every girl's dream night.”
― Megan Van Dyke, Second Star to the Left

“No," said James with a smile. "But I am the pirate from my story.”
― Serena Valentino, Never, Never

“It's always one's passion that ends up one's undoing." He leaned toward her. "Remember that, my tempestuous fairy."
Tinker Bell gestured at his hook. Really, Captain? Is it I who needs to remember?”
― Elizabeth Lim, A Twisted Tale Anthology

“At last, Tink realized, she did have a mission. One born of her own passion. It would involve magic--- fiery, perhaps more concentrated, more ripened than the standard fairy fare. Not dark, as such. But tinted, stained, perhaps. She'd have to find a way to persuade the elders that the moment required such measures.
She found herself more than up to the task.”
― Elizabeth Lim, A Twisted Tale Anthology

“All at once the fairies burst from their corner, lit brighter than a galaxy. The elders darted straight to the captives. But the younger pixies, led by Tinker Bell, zipped and darted around the pirates, sprinkling enough pixie dust to spark.
Enough pixie dust, that was, to burn.
"We're on fire!" Smee shouted. "Run for the water!"
"The boy will escape!" Hook snarled. "You'll all be staying right here!"
The pirate crew wanted to obey their captain, of course--- but the fairies were relentless. And their dust rained down like acid. Tink found that the unease that came from always trying to contain her outsized feelings was greatly alleviated with this opportunity to expend some of that wild, raw emotion. It was thrilling. She threw her head back, laughing as the crew retreated.
Then it was just Tink, Hook, and Peter. The Darlings and Lost Boys had been released by the elders. Peter was still strung up, bobbing in his restraints like a kite. Amid the chaos he looked at Tinker Bell with amusement.
"Came back for us, did ya?" His eyes twinkled.
I came back... for me.”
― Elizabeth Lim, A Twisted Tale Anthology

“Tink: A band of cutthroats has invaded our realm and means us harm, and yet you linger hear like weak, feckless children. Now, clear your heads, draw your swords and rise like the warriors you are... or hangovers will be the least of your troubles...”
― Andy Winter, Peter Pan