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Her voice left a flavor of honey and gunpowder on the air.

Peter S. Beagle

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Peter S. Beagle
Age: 85
Born: 1939
Born: April 20
Author
Novelist
Screenwriter
Writer
Manhattan borough
New York City
Peter Soyer Beagle
Left
Gunpowder
Flavor
Honey
Air
Voice

More quotes by Peter S. Beagle

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The horns came riding in like the rainbow masts of silver ships.
Peter S. Beagle
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What do men know? Because they have seen no unicorns for a while does not mean we have all vanished.
Peter S. Beagle
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As for you and your heart and the things you said and didn't say, she will remember them all when men are fairy tales in books written by rabbits.
Peter S. Beagle
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She said, I will go no farther. There is no choice. We can only go on. The magician said again. We can only go on.
Peter S. Beagle
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Lir said, It is my right. A hero is entitled to his happy ending, when it comes at last. But Schmendrick answered, This is not the end, either for you or for her.
Peter S. Beagle
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The moon was gone, but to the magician's eyes the unicorn was the moon, cold and white and very old, lighting his way to safety, or to madness.
Peter S. Beagle
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Ravens bring things to people. We're like that. It's our nature. We don't like it.
Peter S. Beagle
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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.
Peter S. Beagle
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...no cat out of its first fur can ever be deceived by appearances. Unlike human beings, who enjoy them.
Peter S. Beagle
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The unicorn halted in her slow, desperate round of the cage, realizing for the first time that the magician understood her speech. He smiled, and she saw that his face was frighteningly young for a grown man-untraveled by time, unvisited by grief or wisdom. I know you, he said.
Peter S. Beagle
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The woman I loved died because I did not love her enough - what greater sin is there than that? (Uncle Chaim and Aunt Fifke and the Angel)
Peter S. Beagle
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Unicorns are immortal. It is their nature to live alone in one place: usually a forest where there is a pool clear enough for them to see themselves -- for they are a little vain, knowing themselves to be the most beautiful.
Peter S. Beagle
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The magician was studying her face with his green eyes. Your face is wet, he said worriedly. I hope that's spray. If you've become human enough to cry, then no magic in the world — oh, it must be spray. Come with me. It had better be spray.
Peter S. Beagle
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We are raised to honor all the wrong explorers and discoverers thieves planting flags, murderers carrying crosses. Let us at last praise the colonizers of dreams.
Peter S. Beagle
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But what I thought, and what I still think, and always will, is that she saw me. Nobody else has ever seen me — me, Jenny Gluckstein — like that. Not my parents, not Julian, not even Meena. Love is one thing — recognition is something else.
Peter S. Beagle
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Marveling at his own boldness, he said softly, I would enter your sleep if I could, and guard you there, and slay the thing that hounds you, as I would if it had the courage to face me in fair daylight. But I cannot come in unless you dream of me.
Peter S. Beagle
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The most professional curse ever snarled or croaked or thundered can have no effect on a pure heart.
Peter S. Beagle
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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.
Peter S. Beagle
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If she had touched me, he said very softly, I would have been hers and not my own, not ever again. I wanted her to touch me but I could not let her. No cat will. We let human beings caress us because it is pleasant enough and calms them - but not her. The price is more than a cat can pay.
Peter S. Beagle
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What happened instead was that the tree fell in love with him and began to murmur fondly of the joy to be found in the eternal embrace of a red oak. Always, always, it sighed, faithful beyond any man's deserving. I will keep the color of your eyes when no other in the world remembers your name. There is no immortality but a tree's love.
Peter S. Beagle