It’s A Rare Man Who Is Taken

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.

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.

Farewell,' She Said. 'i Hope You Hear Many More Songs' - Which Was The Best Way She Could Think Of To Say Good-bye To A Butterfly.

Writing Has Nothing To Do With Publishing. Nothing. People Get Totally Confused About That. You Write Because You Have To - You Write Because You Can't Not Write. The Rest Is Show-business. I Can't State That Too Strongly. Just Write - Worry About The Rest Of It Later, If You Worry At All. What Matters Is What Happens To You While You're Writing The Story, The Poem, The Play. The Rest Is Show-business.

Her Voice Left A Flavor Of Honey And Gunpowder On The Air.