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Book: The Folk of the Air
Quotes of Book: The Folk of the Air

Peter S. Beagle _ The Folk of the Air
Julie raised her face, gasping and hiccuping, and he saw clearly how she would look when she was old. "Baby," he said, and began helplessly kissing lines and hollows and wounds that were not there yet, sick with tenderness and fear.
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Peter S. Beagle _ The Folk of the Air
Julie started the engine, and the air around the BSA danced to life, this time enclosing them in a roaring privacy - a momentary country, trembling at the curb. Outside, beyond their borders, the honey-slow twilight was thinning and quickening to a cold, dusty lavender. Skateboarders hurtled past like moths, urgently contorted, one-dimensional in the pale headlights rushing up the hill toward them.
book-quote motorcycle privacy twilight
Peter S. Beagle _ The Folk of the Air
There is nothing like you anywhere among all the stones in the sky, do you realize that? You are the wonder of the cosmos, possibly for embarrassing reasons, but anyway a wonder.
book-quote sky embarrassing wonder
Peter S. Beagle _ The Folk of the Air
Oh, more people than not have some magic, they just forget about it. Children use it all the time - what do you think jump rope rhymes are, or bouncing ball games, or cat's cradles? Where do you think that girl, Aiffe, draws her power? Because she refuses to forget, that's all it is.
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Peter S. Beagle _ The Folk of the Air
Farrell had seen pure white drunkenness before, but not often enough to recognize it at sight. He knew the thing itself, however--the freight train rattling and lurching comically from hilarity to slobbering sorrow, picking up speed as it passed through wild, aimless anger straight on into wild sickness; and then, running smoothly and almost silently now, into a dark place of shaking and sweating and crying, and out again with no warning to where a dazzling snowy light made everything very still.
book-quote drunkenness
Peter S. Beagle _ The Folk of the Air
Avicenna California...Museum of my twisted youth, vault of my dearest and most disgusting memories.
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Peter S. Beagle _ The Folk of the Air
It's like dinosaurs. We can put them back together perfectly, bone for bone, but we don't know what they smelled like, what kind of sounds they made, or how big they really looked standing in the grass under all those fossil fern trees. Even the sunlight must have been different, and the wind. What can bones tell you about a kind of wind that doesn't blow anymore?
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Peter S. Beagle _ The Folk of the Air
How terrible to be forgotten by the god that made you, even if you're just a room. How could you love something that could do that anytime?
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Peter S. Beagle _ The Folk of the Air
You ever want to see real witchcraft, you watch people protecting their comfort, their beliefs.
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Peter S. Beagle _ The Folk of the Air
He had never missed God or the hope of heaven, but he had dearly wanted confession to rest his mind, Communion to let him touch something beyond Father Krone's dry, shaky hand, and holy water to taste like starlight.
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Peter S. Beagle _ The Folk of the Air
I am a black stone, the size of a kitchen stove. They wash me in the stream every summer and sing over me. I am skulls and cocks, spring rain and the blood of the bull. Virgins lie with strangers in my name, the young priests throw pieces of themselves at my stone feet. I am white corn, and the wind in the corn, and the earth whereof the corn stands up, and the blind worms rolled in an oozy ball of love at the corn's roots. I am rut and flood and honeybees."
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Peter S. Beagle _ The Folk of the Air
I will miss it so," she said beside him. "This hell of a place, I will miss it so much. This fat body, walking mud puddle, deceived by everything, this impossible, ruinous accident of a world, these people who would truly rather hurt one another than eat-oh, there is nothing, nothing, nothing I would not do to stay here ten minutes longer. Oh, I will leave claw marks, I will drag mountains and forests away under my fingernails when I am dragged off. Such a stupid way to feel. I will be all dirty from clutching at this stupid planet, and the gods will laugh at me.
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