Today is a menagerie of utter gorgeousness taken from Peter Beagle’s book The Last Unicorn.  You can’t tiptoe your way through this book without bumping into beauty every few paragraphs.

“Your name is a golden bell hung in my heart. I would break my body to pieces to call you once by your name.” 

“He thought, or said, or sang, I did not know that I was so empty, to be so full.” 

“Another sound followed them long after these had faded, followed them into morning on a strange road – the tiny dry sound of a spider weeping.”

These flabbergast me.  He thought, or said, or sang … yes.  Yes.