I Fear It, For Her Sake. It

The Magician Was Studying Her Face With His Green Eyes. "your Face Is Wet," He Said Worriedly. "i Hope That's Spray. If You've Become Human Enough To Cry, Then No Magic In The World — Oh, It Must Be Spray. Come With Me. It Had Better Be Spray.

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.

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?

But What I Thought, And What I Still Think, And Always Will, Is That She Saw Me. Nobody Else Has Ever Seen Me — Me, Jenny Gluckstein — Like That. Not My Parents, Not Julian, Not Even Meena. Love Is One Thing — Recognition Is Something Else.

Unicorns Are Immortal. It Is Their Nature To Live Alone In One Place: Usually A Forest Where There Is A Pool Clear Enough For Them To See Themselves -- For They Are A Little Vain, Knowing Themselves To Be The Most Beautiful.