For a moment she turned in a circle, staring at her hands, which she held high and useless, close to her breast. She bobbed and shambled like an ape doing a trick, and her face was the silly, bewildered face of a joker's victim. And yet she could make no move that was not beautiful. Her trapped terror was more lovely than any joy that Molly had ever seen, and that was the most terrible thing about it.

If a man loved me, I would have talked myself into loving him, and I would have loved him very deeply after a while.

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

The tune was wailing and mournful, almost flagrantly so, and the total effect was of a heartbroken piccolo being parted forever from its bagpipe lover.

Take me with you. For laughs, for luck, for the unknown. Take me with you.

A rhinoceros is as ugly as a human being, and it too is going to die, but at least it never thinks that it is beautiful.

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.