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Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid of anything. Whatever you have been, you are mine now. I can hold you.

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
Mines
Mine
Afraid
Hold
Whatever
Fear
Anything

More quotes by Peter S. Beagle

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How's the Angel of Death supposed to do his job with clipped wings?
Peter S. Beagle
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Her voice left a flavor of honey and gunpowder on the air.
Peter S. Beagle
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Sing to me, she said. That would be valiant, to raise your voice in this dark, lonely place, and it will be useful as well. Sing to me, sing loudly-drown out my dreams, keep me from remembering whatever wants me to remember it. Sing to me, my lord prince, if it please you. It may not seem a hero's task, but I would be glad of it.
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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Great heroes need great sorrows and burdens, or half their greatness goes unnoticed. It is all part of the fairy tale.
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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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?
Peter S. Beagle
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Whatever can die is beautiful — more beautiful than a unicorn, who lives forever, and who is the most beautiful creature in the world. Do you understand me?
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
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You were the one who taught me, he said. I never looked at you without seeing the sweetness of the way the world goes together, or without sorrow for its spoiling. I became a hero to serve you, and all that is like you.
Peter S. Beagle
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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.
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 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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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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I fear it, for her sake. It would mean that she too is a wanderer now, and that is a fate for human beings, not for unicorns. But I hope, of course I hope.
Peter S. Beagle
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If a man loved me, I would have talked myself into loving him, and I would have loved him very deeply after a while.
Peter S. Beagle
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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.
Peter S. Beagle
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Ah. My story. Are you certain you wish to hear it? It is long, unlikely, and remarkably unedifying -- shameful, even, to come from a minister's lips. Blasphemous, too, properly regarded.
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