Peter S Beagle Quotes

Farewell,' she said. 'I hope you hear many more songs' - which was the best way she could think of to say good-bye to a butterfly.

I am a king’s daughter, And if I cared to care, The moon that has no mistress Would flutter in my hair.

I think that we are often angry with each other without knowing it, and I know that we are angry with ourselves.

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.

Outside, the night lay coiled in the street, cobra-cold and scaled with stars.

What is plucked will grow again, What is slain lives on, What is stolen will remain-- What is gone is gone.

Who has choices need not choose. We must, who have none. We can love but what we lose-- What is gone is gone.

Avicenna California...Museum of my twisted youth, vault of my dearest and most disgusting memories.

But I felt them...hungry shadows who knew my name, clawing at my mind and my soul to be let in - and if I let them in there would be nothing left of me but skin; nothing but a shadow inside, like them...

Can you write a poem about someone's snores? About trying not to sneeze when her hair tickles my nose? About that one tiny barely audible fart against my leg?

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 le...

I don’t think I could ever see her closely, the sentinel replied, however close she came.

I've always thought cemeteries were like cities. There are streets, avenues—you've seen them, I think, Michael. There are blocks, too, and house numbers, slums and ghettos, middle-class sections and s...

Outside, the night lay coiled in the street, cobra-cold and scaled with stars. There

See, they don't have winter here. I mean, they have a winter – where I live, it's liable to rain any time between November and June, or all the time – but they don't have winter. The idea of it isn't...

The unicorn was gray and still. There is magic on me, she said. Why did you not tell me?I thought you knew, the magician answered gently. After all, didn't you wonder how it could be that they recogni...

Why are you hoping to kill the unicorns? Why would you not just take pictures, videos, with your cell phones, your fancy digital cameras, and let them be?The young men looked at him, and then at each...

Why did they go away, do you think? If there ever were such things. Who knows? Times change. Would you call this age a good one for unicorns?

You may plant your acres again, and raise up your fallen orchards and vineyards, but they will never flourish as they used to, never—until you learn to take joy in them, for no reason. He

For the first time she began to feel the minutes crawling over her like worms.