Unicorns are not to be forgiven." The magician felt himself growing giddy with jealousy, not only of the touch but of something like a secret that was moving between Molly and the unicorn. "Unicorns are for beginnings," he said, "for innocence and purity, for newness. Unicorns are for young girls." Molly was stroking the unicorn's throat as timidly as though she were blind. She dried her grimy tears on the white mane. "You don't know much about unicorns," she said.

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.

There are no happy endings, because nothing ends.

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

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?

I always say perseverance is nine-tenths of any art — not that it's much help to be nine-tenths an artist, of course.

You ever want to see real witchcraft, you watch people protecting their comfort, their beliefs.