You deserve the services of a great wizard, he said to the unicorn, but I’m afraid you’ll have to be glad of the aid of a second-rate pickpocket.
You don't have to believe in Hell. All you need is to hear someone who really does, who believes in it this minute, today, the way people believe in 1685 — all you have to do is see his face, his voic...
You ever want to see real witchcraft, you watch people protecting their comfort, their beliefs.
You may plant your acres again and raise up your fallen orchard and vineyards, but they will never flourish as they used to, never--until you learn to take joy in them, for no reason.
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
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 s...
You pile of stones, you waste, you desolation, I'll stuff you with misery till it comes out of your eyes. I'll change your heart into green grass, and all you love into a sheep. I'll turn you into a b...
You think this is living? This is eating, nothing else.
You were the one who taught me, he said. I never looked at you without seeing the sweetness of the way the world goes together, or without sorrow for its spoiling. I became a hero to serve you, and al...
You're in the story with the rest of us now, and you must go with it, whether you will or no.
Your name is a golden bell hung in my heart. I would break my body to pieces to call you once by your name.
Който има избор, не избира.Избира онзи, който няма.Всичко, що обичаме,умира - отминалото не остава.
And even the feral, near-wild Third Cat, whose true name he had never discovered, as one has to do with cats, trailed
For no one can keep a unicorn in his head for long;
For the first time she began to feel the minutes crawling over her like worms.
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.
She is a story with no ending, happy or sad. She can never belong to anything mortal enough to want her. Most
She was no longer the careless color of sea foam, but rather the color of snow falling on a moonlit night.
Song of elli (old age)What is plucked will grow again,What is slain lives on,What is stolen will remainWhat is gone is gone...What is sea-born dies on land,Soft is trod upon.What is given burns the ha...
The enchantment of error that you put on me I must wear forever in your eyes. We are not always what we seem, and hardly ever what we dream. Still
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