It would be a crime to eat such a mouse! he proclaimed everywhere. An absolute, shameful, yummy crime.
It’s a rare man who is taken for what he truly is,
Julie raised her face, gasping and hiccuping, and he saw clearly how she would look when she was old. Baby, he said, and began helplessly kissing lines and hollows and wounds that were not there yet,...
Like that Chinese monkey trying to grab the moon in the water, Uncle Chaim said to me once. That's me, a Chinese monkey.(Uncle Chaim and Aunt Rifke and the Angel)
My father hates cats. 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.
My son, your ineptitude is so vast, your incompetence so profound, that I am certain you are inhabited by greater power than I have ever known.
No, she said, answering his eyes. I can never regret.[...]I can sorrow, she offered gently, but it's not the same thing.
My experience is that if you need a wagonload of weaponry to feel secure, you are likely doomed before your bespoke sword clears the scabbard.
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...
She said, I will go no farther.There is no choice. We can only go on. The magician said again. We can only go on.
Still I have read, or heard it sung, that unicorns when time was young, could tell the difference ’twixt the two—the false shining and the true, the lips’ laugh and the heart’s rue.
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.
The air was motionless, carved, a block of warm copper fitting neatly around the earth, molded while soft to fit every house and every human being on the earth, and now hardened forever so that no man...
The unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone. She was very old, though she did not know it, and she was no longer the careless color of sea foam but rather the color of snow falling on a...
Your name is a golden bell hung in my heart. I would break my body to pieces to call you once by your name.
The universe and Claudio Bianchi had agreed long ago to leave one another alone, and he was grateful, knowing very well how rare such a bargain is, and how rarely kept. And if he had any complaints, h...
What is plucked will grow again, What is slain lives on, What is stolen will remain-- What is gone is gone.
Anyway, since you and I must choose one road to follow, out of the many that run to the same place in the end, it might as well be a road that a unicorn has taken. We may never see her, but we will al...
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,...
Do you know what I am, butterfly? the unicorn asked hopefully, and he replied. Excellent well, you’re a fishmonger. You’re my everything, you are my sunshine, you are old and gray and full of sleep, y...
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