Then what is magic for?" Prince Lír demanded wildly. "What use is wizardry if it cannot save a unicorn?" He gripped the magician's shoulder hard, to keep from falling. Schmedrick did not turn his head. With a touch of sad mockery in his voice, he said, "That's what heroes are for.

Great heroes need great sorrows and burdens, or half their greatness goes unnoticed. It is all part of the fairy tale.

I feel a whole country growing inside me, thousands of years, millions of people, stupid, crazy, shrewd people, and all of them me. I never felt like that before, I never felt that there was anything inside me, even myself.

A Clock is not time; it's numbers and springs. Pay it no mind.

What use is magic if it can't save a unicorn?

Who has choices need not choose. We must, who have none. We can love but what we lose-- What is gone is gone.

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.