There is something about riding a unicorn, for those people who still can, which is unlike any other experience: exhilarating, and intoxicating, and fine.
Poetry is news brought to the mountains by a unicorn and an echo.
A truly wise man does not play leapfrog with a unicorn.
I would wanna be a mermaid, but I think I'm a little bit more of a unicorn, because I'm like a little bit more horsey.
Rhinos are just fat unicorns. If we'd give them the time and attention they deserve, as well as a diet: They'd reveal their majestic ways
...my conscience has the same hard reality as a unicorn.
The last unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone.
The lost unicorn is in our presence!!
God himself must needs be traduced, if there is no unicorn in the world.
Not everyone can or will love you. You could run a cotton candy and unicorn farm and someone's gonna think you're an asshole. Everyone's fighting their own battle and it often has nothing to do with you.
It is no shame to lose to me, mortal. Even among mythical creatures there are very few who can give a unicorn a good game.
The bridge will only take you halfway there, to those mysterious lands you long to see. Through gypsy camps and swirling Arab fair, and moonlit woods where unicorns run free. So come and walk awhile with me and share the twisting trails and wondrous worlds I've known. But this bridge will only take you halfway there. The last few steps you have to take alone.
It would have been nice to have had unicorns.
If I'm talking to a guy who's straight and cute and single, I'm like 'are you a unicorn?'
What use is wizardry if it cannot save a Unicorn?
Are you sure this is a good idea?' whispered the unicorn. 'No,' said Rupert. 'But it's our best chance to find a dragon.' 'Frankly, that doesn't strike me as such a hot idea either,' muttered the unicorn.
I would compete in unicorn back riding! Why? Because we are from the same fairytale.
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.
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.
Advice to Young Poets Never pretend to be a unicorn by sticking a plunger on your head.
I suppose I could understand it if men had simply forgotten unicorns, but not to see them at all, to look at them and see something else — what do they look to one another, then? What do trees look like to them, or houses, or real horses, or their own children?
The unicorn was white, with hoofs of silver and graceful horn of pearl... The glorious thing about him was his eye. There was a faint bluish furrow down each side of his nose, and this led to the eye sockets, and surrounded them in a pensive shade. The eyes, circled by this sad and beautiful darkness, were so sorrowful, lonely, gentle and nobly tragic, that they killed all other emotions except love.
You’re allowed to believe in a god. You’re allowed to believe unicorns live in your shoes for all I care. But the day you start telling me how to wear my shoes so I don’t upset the unicorns, I have a problem with you. The day you start involving the unicorns in making decisions for this country, I have a BIG problem with you.
I had My Little Ponies. I was obsessed with the idea of a creature that was born with something magical that sort of made them the misfit in the world of the stallion. I’m actually quite obsessed with unicorns. They are in essence a mythical creature. The unicorn is born magical and it’s not the unicorn’s fault and it doesn’t make it any more or less special or any less unique but it can’t help that it was born with that magic.
The unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone. She was very old, though she did not know it, and she was no longer the careless color of sea foam but rather the color of snow falling on a moonlit night. But her eyes were still clear and unwearied, and she still moved like a shadow on the sea.
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