All lives are composed of two basic elements," the squirrel said, "purpose and poetry. By being ourselves, squirrel and raven, we fulfill the first requirement, you in flight and I in my tree. But there is poetry in the meanest of lives, and if we leave it unsought we leave ourselves unrealized. A life without food, without shelter, without love, a life lived in the rain—this is nothing beside a life without poetry.
Peter S. BeagleStichwörter: life
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. BeagleStichwörter: humor music fantasy
I'll tell you something. Once I was very fond of a poem by Emily Dickinson or somebody. I only remember one line of it, but it goes, 'The soul selects her own society.' I used to tell it to everybody. Once I quoted it to a friend of mine, and he said, 'Maybe, but the body gets thrown into bed with the goddamnedest people.
Peter S. BeagleStichwörter: humor sex fantasy
Hell of an ornithologist you'd make.
Peter S. BeagleDas Zitat auf Deutsch anzeigen
Das Zitat auf Französisch anzeigen
Das Zitat auf Italienisch anzeigen
What is plucked will grow again,
What is slain lives on,
What is stolen will remain--
What is gone is gone.
And what good is it to me that you're here now? Where where you twenty years ago, ten years ago? How dare you, how dare you come to me now, when I am this?
Peter S. BeagleIt's really not so good to have time. Rush, scramble, desperation, this missed, that left behind, those others too big to fit into such a small space--that's the way life was meant to be. You're supposed to be too late for some things. Don't worry about it.
Peter S. BeagleWho has choices need not choose.
We must, who have none.
We can love but what we lose--
What is gone is gone.
But I'm always dreaming, even when I'm awake; it is never finished.
Peter S. BeagleSitting up all night would be pointless if somebody you loved wasn't sitting up with you, picking out music to play and helping you kill the bourbon. Walking by yourself in the rain is for college kids who think loneliness makes poets.
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