The most professional curse ever snarled or croaked or thundered can have no effect on a pure heart. Peter S. Beagle More Quotes by Peter S. Beagle More Quotes From Peter S. Beagle Lir said, "It is my right. A hero is entitled to his happy ending, when it comes at last." But Schmendrick answered, "This is not the end, either for you or for her. Peter S. Beagle happy-endings lasts hero I know how to live here, I know how everything smells, and tastes, and is. What could I ever search for in the world, except this again? Peter S. Beagle smell taste world A Clock is not time; it's numbers and springs. Pay it no mind. Peter S. Beagle mind spring numbers Unicorns are immortal. It is their nature to live alone in one place: usually a forest where there is a pool clear enough for them to see themselves -- for they are a little vain, knowing themselves to be the most beautiful. Peter S. Beagle knowing littles beautiful Men have to have heroes, but no man can ever be as big as the need, and so a legend grows around a grain of truth, like a pearl. Peter S. Beagle hero men needs ...no place is more enchanted than where a unicorn has been born. Peter S. Beagle enchanted unicorn born They know these mornings well and love them desperately because they cannot last - these people who know that nothing lasts. Peter S. Beagle and-love morning people ..no meal is good enough to justify all the money and effort wasted in preparing it. It is an illusion and an expense. Live as I do, undeceived. Peter S. Beagle illusion effort meals We are raised to honor all the wrong explorers and discoverers thieves planting flags, murderers carrying crosses. Let us at last praise the colonizers of dreams. Peter S. Beagle honor dream history There's a phrase, "sitzfleisch", which means just plain sitting on your ass and getting it done. Just showing up for work. My uncle Raphael was a painter, and he used to say, "If the muse is late for work, start without her". You have to be there. You have to be there, and do it, and grind it out, even when it is grinding and you know you're probably going to rewrite all this tomorrow. Peter S. Beagle uncles writing mean Ah. My story. Are you certain you wish to hear it? It is long, unlikely, and remarkably unedifying -- shameful, even, to come from a minister's lips. Blasphemous, too, properly regarded. Peter S. Beagle stories wish long Walking by yourself in the rain is for college kids who think loneliness makes poets. Peter S. Beagle loneliness rain kids Writing has nothing to do with publishing. Nothing. People get totally confused about that. You write because you have to - you write because you can't not write. The rest is show-business. I can't state that too strongly. Just write - worry about the rest of it later, if you worry at all. What matters is what happens to you while you're writing the story, the poem, the play. The rest is show-business. Peter S. Beagle confused play writing No," he repeated, and this time the word tolled in another voice, a king's voice... whose grief was not for what he did not have, but for what he could not give. Peter S. Beagle voice grief kings 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. Peter S. Beagle butterfly farewell song 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, for no unicorn was ever born who could regret, but I do. I regret. Peter S. Beagle regret tears want He thought, or said, or sang, I did not know that I was so empty, to be so full. Peter S. Beagle empty knows said He had never missed God or the hope of heaven, but he had dearly wanted confession to rest his mind, Communion to let him touch something beyond Father Krone's dry, shaky hand, and holy water to taste like starlight. Peter S. Beagle water father hands The Lady Amalthea beckoned, and the cat wriggled all over, like a dog, but he would not come near... She was offering her open palm to the crook-eared cat, but he stayed where he was, shivering with the desire to go to her"...[later, Molly asked the cat] "Why were you afraid to let her touch you? I saw you. You were afraid of her." "If she had touched me," he said very softly, "I would have been hers and not my own, not ever again. I wanted her to touch me but I could not let her. No cat will... The price is more than a cat can pay. Peter S. Beagle cat offering dog 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. Peter S. Beagle ineptitude profound son
