Do you know what I am, butterfly?" the unicorn asked hopefully, and he replied. "Excellent well, you're a fishmonger. You're my everything, you are my sunshine, you are old and gray and full of sleep, you're my pickle-face, consumptive Mary Jane." He paused, fluttering his wings against the wind, and added conversationally, "Your name is a golden bell hung in my heart. I would break my body to pieces to call you once by your name.
( Peter S. Beagle )
[ The Last Unicorn ]
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