But I'm Always Dreaming, Even When I'm

The True Secret In Being A Hero Lies In Knowing The Order Of Things. The Swineherd Cannot Already Be Wed To The Princess When He Embarks On His Adventures, Nor Can The Boy Knock On The Witch's Door When She Is Already Away On Vacation. The Wicked Uncle Cannot Be Found Out And Foiled Before He Does Something Wicked. Things Must Happen When It Is Time For Them To Happen. Quests May Not Simply Be Abandoned; Prophecies May Not Be Left To Rot Like Unpicked Fruit; Unicorns May Go Unrescued For A Very Long Time, But Not Forever. The Happy Ending Cannot Come In The Middle Of The Story.

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.

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.

Unicorns Are Not To Be Forgiven." The Magician Felt Himself Growing Giddy With Jealousy, Not Only Of The Touch But Of Something Like A Secret That Was Moving Between Molly And The Unicorn. "unicorns Are For Beginnings," He Said, "for Innocence And Purity, For Newness. Unicorns Are For Young Girls." Molly Was Stroking The Unicorn's Throat As Timidly As Though She Were Blind. She Dried Her Grimy Tears On The White Mane. "you Don't Know Much About Unicorns," She Said.

How's The Angel Of Death Supposed To Do His Job With Clipped Wings?