Peter S. Beagle Quotes

she is a story with no ending, happy or sad. She can never belong to anything mortal enough to want her.” Most

I will miss it so,” she said beside him. “This hell of a place, I will miss it so much. This fat body, walking mud puddle, deceived by everything, this impossible, ruinous accident of a world, these people who would truly rather hurt one another than eat — oh, there is nothing, nothing, nothing I would not do to stay here ten minutes longer. Oh, I will leave claw marks, I will drag mountains and forests away under my fingernails when I am dragged off. Such a stupid way to feel. I will be all dirty from clutching at this stupid planet, and the gods will laugh at me.

There's more meaning than magic to this

It's really not so good to have time. Rush, scramble, desperation, this missed, that left behind, those others too big to fit into such a small space — that's the way life was meant to be. You're supposed to be too late for some things. Don't worry about it.

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.

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 was lost too. What else would I have been doing in Iowa?

Any woman can weep without tears,” she answered over her shoulder, “and most can heal with their hands. It depends on the wound. She is a woman, Your Highness, and that’s riddle enough.

I am a king's daughter,
And if I cared to care,
The moon that has no mistress
Would flutter in my hair.
No one dares to cherish
What I choose to crave.
Never have I hungered,
For that I did not have
I am a kings daughter,
And I grow old within
The prison of my person,
The shackles of my skin.
And I would run away
And beg from door to door,
Just to see your shadow
Once, and never more.

- and you are truly human now. You can love, and fear, and forbid things to be what they are, and overact.

I like being brave well enough, but I will be a lazy coward again if you think that would be better.

Stories never end. We end.

"I love whom I love," Prince Lir repeated firmly. "You have no power over anything that matters."

She's a lady," I says, "for all she's a Portygee, and you're no more a gentleman than that monkey in your mango tree. Money don't make such as us into gentlemen, Henry Lee. All it does, it makes us rich monkeys. You know that, same as me.

The magic on you is only magic and will vanish a soon as you are free, but the enchantment of error that you put on me I must wear forever in your eyes. We are not always what we seem, and hardly ever what we dream.