for no one can keep a unicorn in his head for long;

for no one can keep a unicorn in his head for long;

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The book "The Last Unicorn" by Peter S. Beagle tells the poignant story of a unicorn who embarks on a quest to discover what has happened to her kind. As she journeys through a world that has forgotten the magic of her existence, she encounters various characters who reveal both the beauty and sorrow of life. Through her experiences, the themes of loss, longing, and the quest for identity become central...

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March 18, 2025

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At last he said to me, 'My son, your ineptitude is so vast, your incompetence so profound, that I am certain you are inhabited by greater power than I have ever known.

I have my power at last, but the world is still too heavy for me to move, though my friend Lír might think otherwise.

Once you had your man, you let all your accomplishments go. You don't sew or sing any more, you haven't illuminated a manuscript in years-and

They broaden our outlook… set us to looking inward…

But I would have chosen any other than this for my prison. 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.

She was one woman who knew what to do with a slight moral edge. The

She thought about how in that moment life was perfect because it was simple. One truck, a world asleep, and a million stars. It didn't matter where they were going. She was just existing. — Tessa Shaffer Heaven Has No...

All the things you can talk about in anyone's work are the things that are least important. — Edward Gorey Ascending...

The hero surviving his own murder, his own suicide, his own addiction, surviving his own disappearance from the scene — Allen Ginsberg The Fall of...

There was a star danced, and under that was I born. — William Shakespeare Much Ado About...

Race of Cain, ascend to heaven, And cast God down upon the earth! — Charles Baudelaire The Flowers of...

... it occurred to me that perhaps in this city the crowd was essential to the individual; without it, he had nothing against which to scrape his anger, no echo for grief, and not the slightest proof that there were others more lonely than he. it was just a passing thought. — Don DeLillo Americana

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What could you do? Major Major asked himself again. What could you do with a man who looked you...

If I turned towards books, it was because they were the only sanctuary I knew, one I needed in order...

We all had to pay, but not for the crimes we were accused of. There were other scores to settle.

Hope for some means its loss for others; when the hopeless regain some hope, those in power--the...

Why are they going to disappear him? I don't know. It doesn't make sense. It isn't even good...

Havermeyer was a lead bombardier who never missed. Yossarian was a lead bombardier who had been...

fiction is like a spider's web, attached ever so slightly perhaps, but still attached to life at all...

Read me back the last line. 'Read me back the last line,' read back the corporal who could take...

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