If I danced with my feet As I did in my dreaming,As graceful and gleamingAs death in disguise --Oh, that would be sweet,But then would I hungerTo be ten years younger,Or wedded, or wise?
It’s a rare man who is taken for what he truly is,
Once you had your man, you let all your accomplishments go. You don’t sew or sing any more, you haven’t illuminated a manuscript in years—and
Prodigies began to waken somewhere southwest of his twelfth rib, and he himself- still mirroring the Lady Amalthea- began to shine.
She touched you twice,' he said in a little while. 'The first touch was to bring you to life again, but the second was for you.
Stories never end. We end.
The long road hurried to nowhere and had no end.
The magician was studying her face with his green eyes. Your face is wet, he said worriedly. I hope that's spray. If you've become human enough to cry, then no magic in the world — oh, it must be spra...
The sight of her makes me want to do battle with all evil and ugliness,
The sight of men filled her with an old, slow, strange mixture of tenderness and terror.
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...
The unicorn was weary of human beings. Watching her companions as they slept, seeing the shadows of their dreams scurry over their faces, she would feel herself bending under the heaviness of knowing...
There are honest people in the world, but only because the devil considers their asking prices ridiculous.
What I forget not only ceases to exist, but never really existed in the first place.
When you walk, you make an echo where they used to be.
Wisdom is finding joy in bewilderment
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.
She was no longer the careless color of sea foam, but rather the color of snow falling on a moonlit night.
To the magician’s eyes the unicorn was the moon, cold and white and very old, lighting his way to safety, or to madness.
A hero is entitled to his happy ending, when it comes at last.
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