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

Your name is a golden bell hung in my heart. I would break my body to pieces to call you once by your name.

I am what I am. I would tell you what you want to know if I could, for you have been kind to me. But I am a cat, and no cat anywhere ever gave anyone a straight answer.

Real magic can never be made by offering someone else's liver. You must tear out your own, and not expect to get it back.

All lives are composed of two basic elements," the squirrel said, "purpose and poetry. By being ourselves, squirrel and raven, we fulfill the first requirement, you in flight and I in my tree. But there is poetry in the meanest of lives, and if we leave it unsought we leave ourselves unrealized. A life without food, without shelter, without love, a life lived in the rain—this is nothing beside a life without poetry.

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.

Envy nobody. It is the true secret of happiness, or at least the only one I know. (By Moonlight)