I have been mortal, and some part of me is mortal yet. I am full of tears and hunger and the fear of death, although I cannot weep, and I want nothing, and I cannot die. I am not like the others now,...
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.
We are used men, spent men—but if you would see miracles, you have only to request the impossible of us. We will become young again if you wish it so.
The magic on you is only magic and will vanish a soon as you are free, but 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...
Marveling at his own boldness, he said softly, I would enter your sleep if I could, and guard you there, and slay the thing that hounds you, as I would if it had the courage to face me in fair dayligh...
I love you, Laura said hopelessly. I'd love you if you were afraid of everything in the world.
I always say perseverance is nine-tenths of any art — not that it's much help to be nine-tenths an artist, of course.
He really would have done all that for her, you see, and done it believing he'd burn in hell forever for doing it. He hadn't done it, and wouldn't had made her his anyway, but you see why he'd have fi...
There was nothing for it now but to throw himself on Campos's mercy, and it had been Mr. Rebeck's experience of mercy that it had a tendency to buckle under the weight of a human soul.
What magical thing could you want so badly that they take you away from the known world for wanting it?
We give them different names, those nights lit only by fire and the moon, depending on the country and the calendar, but we know what they are. They call up the world that was before the Lord came dow...
Walking by yourself in the rain is for college kids who think loneliness makes poets.
The woman I loved died because I did not love her enough - what greater sin is there than that?(Uncle Chaim and Aunt Fifke and the Angel)
The moral of that story, I think, is that being poor will kill you. Or perhaps the moral is that brides never fare well in stories, and one should avoid either being a bride, or being in a story. Afte...
Sing to me, she said. That would be valiant, to raise your voice in this dark, lonely place, and it will be useful as well. Sing to me, sing loudly-drown out my dreams, keep me from remembering whatev...
She had never minded being alone, never seeing another unicorn,
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 bad poet with dreams.
He thought, or said, or sang, I did not know that I was so empty, to be so full.
You're in the story with the rest of us now, and you must go with it, whether you will or no.
Whatever can die is beautiful — more beautiful than a unicorn, who lives forever, and who is the most beautiful creature in the world. Do you understand me?