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18db663
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Avicenna California...Museum of my twisted youth, vault of my dearest and most disgusting memories.
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Peter S. Beagle |
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f85589a
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Hell of an ornithologist you'd make.
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Peter S. Beagle |
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7bb4b94
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but to the unicorn's eyes Molly was becoming a softer country, full of pools and caves, where old flowers came burning out of the ground. Under the dirt and indifference, she appeared only thirty-seven or thirty-eight years old - no older than Schmendrick, surely, despite the magician's birthdayless face. Her rough hair bloomed, her skin quickened, and her voice was nearly as gentle to all things as it was when she spoke to the unicorn. The..
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Peter S. Beagle |
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adecad9
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Death takes what man would keep," said the butterfly, "and leaves what man would lose. Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks. I warm my hands before the fire of life and get four-way relief."
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Peter S. Beagle |
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c2cc257
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I believe myself to be good, he thought, and so I can afford to titillate myself by considering evil, like a child frightening himself with horror stories. I am not a bad man. But I am not a wise one, either, nor understanding. And yet, if I lose this rumpled and comfortable skin that I wear, how will I ever find anything to replace it? I wish I were younger and could grow skin easily.
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Peter S. Beagle |
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5c277cc
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The torches went out, and in the darkness, he placed his lips to my ear. "I believe you because I choose to; not because I do."
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Peter S. Beagle |
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685b835
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I was born mortal, and I have been immortal for a long, foolish time, and one day I will be mortal again; so I know something that a unicorn cannot know. Whatever can die is beautiful--more beautiful than a unicorn, who lives forever, and who is the most beautiful creature in the world.
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fantasy-books
the-last-unicorn
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Peter S. Beagle |
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a60f523
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I'm a magician with no magic, and that's no one at all.
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magic
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Peter S. Beagle |
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ea17dd7
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Her neck was long and slender, making her head seem smaller than it was, and the mane that fell almost to the middle of her back was as soft as dandelion fluff and as fine as cirrus. She had pointed ears and thin legs, with feathers of white hair at the ankles; and the long horn above her eyes shone and shivered with its own seashell light even in the deepest midnight.
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Peter S. Beagle |
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d88f89f
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and it's not my place to chase around after you, fixing stuff. What I know's what I know, and it don't include putting the world back the way it out to be. It's too late for that. Way too late for heroes, champions, miracles. Don't matter what our heritage was maybe meant for - your side got hold of it first, and you won long ago. No undoing that, Esau, I ain't fool enough to think otherwise. I'm still sorry for you, but I know your side's ..
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winning
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Peter S. Beagle |
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61b1ab6
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No az s'm kotka, a nikoia kotka nik'de i nikoga ne e dala na nikogo iasen otgovor.
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Peter S. Beagle |
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dee0cac
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I don't think I could ever see her closely," the sentinel replied, "however close she came." His own voice was hushed and regretful, echoing with lost chances. "She has a newness," he said. "Everything is for the first time. See how she moves, how she walks, how she turns her head -- all for the first time, the first time anyone has ever done these things. See how she draws her breath and lets it go again, as though no one else in the world..
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madness
supernatural
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Peter S. Beagle |
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4bd6c1f
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Claudio Bianchi did write poetry [...] He had no vanity about this, no fantasies of literary celebrity; he simply took pleasure putting words in order, exactly as he laid out seedlings in the spring, and tasting them afterward, as he tasted fresh new scallions or ripe tomatoes, or smelled mint or garlic on his hands.
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Peter S. Beagle |
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213f948
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If sacrificing herself for her husband's sake were to prove the last thing that Jassi ever did willingly for her new master . . . well, then, so be it, however bitter the taste to Carcharos. Pride had always been his substitute for honor, but his pride was so long gone from him that he could barely recall the feel of it. And so be that, too.
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Peter S. Beagle |
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0610f66
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I didn't know unicorns had names," I said. "I didn't know they ever loved people." "They don't. Only this one." He turned and walked away swiftly, saying over his shoulder, "Her name was Amalthea."
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unicorns
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Peter S. Beagle |
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f8153b0
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no meal is good enough to justify all the money and effort wasted in preparing it. It is an illusion and an expense. Live as I do, undeceived.
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illusion
meal
waste
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Peter S. Beagle |
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cf05dd3
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You must remind me, little one. When I... when I lose myself - when I lose her - you must remind me that I am still searching, still waiting... that I have never forgotten her, never turned from all she taught me. I sit in this place... I sit... because a king has to sit, you see... but in my mind, in my poor mind, I am always away with her....
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love
memory
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Peter S. Beagle |
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b1b451f
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Marriage isn't like football, like bocce. One isn't good at it, nobody has a special gift. You stumble along, and if there is enough love--" she smiled at him-- "you learn."
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Peter S. Beagle |
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87b0b53
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There are no happy endings, he knew, because nothing ends; and if there were any being dispensed, a great many worthier people would be in line for them long before Michael and Laura and himself. But the happiness of the unworthy and the happiness of the so-so is as fragile and self-centered and dear as the happiness of the righteous and the worthy; and the happiness of the living is no less short and desperate and forgotten than the joys o..
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living
joys-of-the-dead
dear
nothing-ends
jonathan-rebeck
laura-durand
michael-morgan
self-centered
unworthy
fragile
worthy
righteous
happy-endings
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Peter S. Beagle |
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d57d337
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I've never really undestood," the unicorn mused as the man picked himself up," what you dream of doing with me, once you've caught me." The man leaped again, and she slipped away from him like rain. "I don't think you know yourself," she said."
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Peter S. Beagle |
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f05231d
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The dead," he had said once, "need nothing from the living, and the living can give nothing to the dead." At twenty-two, it had sounded precocious; at thirty-four, it sounded mature, and this pleased Michael very much. He had liked being mature and reasonable. He disliked ritual and pomposity, routine and false emotion, rhetoric and sweeping gestures. Crowds made him nervous. Pageantry offended him. Essentially a romantic, he had put away t..
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Peter S. Beagle |
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3c86ef2
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He says that there is no such thing as a cat--it is just a shape that all manner of imps, hobs, and devilkins like to put on, to gain easy entrance into the homes of men.
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Peter S. Beagle |
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79a4d92
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That's the true test of a town, or of a king. A lord who cheats an ugly old witch will cheat his own folk by and by. Stop him while you can, before you grow used to him.
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Peter S. Beagle |
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e92fe8b
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The sight of her makes me want to do battle with all evil and ugliness,
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Peter S. Beagle |
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a5ca463
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But the important thing is for you to understand that it doesn't matter whether the clock strikes ten next, or fifteen o'clock. You can strike your own time, and start the count anywhere. When you can understand that -- then any time at all will be the right time for you.
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wisdom
peter-s-beagle
the-last-unicorn
lessons-in-life
love-life
unicorn
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Peter S. Beagle |
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00f243c
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Farrell had seen pure white drunkenness before, but not often enough to recognize it at sight. He knew the thing itself, however--the freight train rattling and lurching comically from hilarity to slobbering sorrow, picking up speed as it passed through wild, aimless anger straight on into wild sickness; and then, running smoothly and almost silently now, into a dark place of shaking and sweating and crying, and out again with no warning to..
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drunkenness
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Peter S. Beagle |
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67ba6bc
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I sometimes think that a little fear, a little hunger, might be good for us--sharpen our souls,
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Peter S. Beagle |
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e1b10a0
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The king is always watching her out of his pale eyes, wondering what she is, and the king's son wounds himself with loving her and wonders who she is. And every day she searches the sea and the sky, the castle and the courtyard, the keep and the king's face, for something she cannot always remember. What is it, what is it that she is seeking in this strange place? She knew a moment ago, but she has forgotten.
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Peter S. Beagle |
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9b75c31
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There's more meaning than magic to this
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Peter S. Beagle |
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7647675
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Oh, more people than not have some magic, they just forget about it. Children use it all the time - what do you think jump rope rhymes are, or bouncing ball games, or cat's cradles? Where do you think that girl, Aiffe, draws her power? Because she refuses to forget, that's all it is.
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Peter S. Beagle |
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f11fc31
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I think that we are often angry with each other without knowing it, and I know that we are angry with ourselves.
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Peter S. Beagle |
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6aaa593
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And at last she woke up in the middle of one warm night and said, "Yes, but now."
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magic
unicorn
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Peter S. Beagle |
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300d64e
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I've had worse, and I'll have better one day. This is not the end.
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motivational
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Peter S. Beagle |
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da361f2
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So I had something to do, something I'd done, someplace to go, and something to look forward to. That's a reasonable way to live. I enjoyed myself living. I had a good time. How much else can you ask for?" "A lot more," Laura said softly, "if you're greedy. I was greedy once." "So was I, but that was a long time ago. You're greediest when you're born, and after that it's downhill all the way. Live to be two hundred and you wouldn't demand a..
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living
life
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Peter S. Beagle |
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78545d2
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the bad dreams are the way I bleed...
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bad-dreams
lal
lal-after-dark
lal-alone
lalkhamsin-khamsolal
sailor-lal
swordcane-lal
bleeding
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Peter S. Beagle |
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a92359d
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A dream that returns so often is like to be a messenger, come to warn you of the future or to remind you of things untimely forgotten.
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Peter S. Beagle |
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af0b621
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When we go to the fair in disguise, we never win at archery or at singlestick. We do get some nice compliments on our disguises, but no more than that.
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last-unicorn
outlaws
peter-s-beagle
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Peter S. Beagle |
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c1c3e2c
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He was the color of blood, not the springing blood of the heart but the blood that stirs under an old wound that never really healed. A terrible light poured from him like sweat, and his roar started landslides flowing into one another. His horns were pale as scars.
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Peter S. Beagle |
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06eee60
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The spaciousness of it astounds me; this is the kind of country you dream of running away to when you are very young and innocently hungry, before you learn that all land is owned by somebody, that you can get arrested for swinging through trees in a loincloth, and that you were born either too late or too poor for everything you want to do.
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Peter S. Beagle |
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e36dbf4
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Girls like poems better than dead dragons and magic swords,
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Peter S. Beagle |
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726f9c3
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So let's say you marry this girl. All right, you can still be a great man. Look at all the great men who had wives. Go ahead, be a great man, don't let me stop you. Only first you should stop by the grocer and pick up something for the dog. Also for the baby, soft, because he's getting his teeth. To do this, you have to have a job five days a week, you can be a great man on week ends.
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Peter S. Beagle |
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6dd6a34
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But another sound followed them long after these had faded, followed them into morning on a strange road-- the tiny, dry sound of a spider weeping.
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Peter S. Beagle |
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0fe4483
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I am a hero. It is a trade, no more, like weaving or brewing, and like them it has its own tricks and knacks and small arts. There are ways of perceiving witches, and of knowing poison streams; there are certain weak spots that all dragons have, and certain riddles that hooded strangers tend to set you. But the true secret of being a hero lies in knowing the order of things. The swineherd cannot already be wed to the princess when he embark..
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Peter S. Beagle |
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e3f3fd6
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This world, that world, doesn't matter. You never make people to see what you see, hear, feel what you feel. Notes don't do it, words don't do it, paints, bronze, marble, nothing. All you can do, you maybe get it a little close, a little closer. But right, like you're talking? No.
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Peter S. Beagle |