I'm one of those old-fashioned people who believe that literature changes us.
That was how one of my English professors today introduced herself to those who didn't know her. Neat, eh?
BTW, remember this incident? That was her as well =)
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I'm one of those old-fashioned people who believe that literature changes us.
When the last eagle flies over the last crumbling mountain
And the last lion roars at the last dusty fountain
In the shadow of the forest though she may be old and worn
They will stare unbelieving at the last unicorn
When the first breath of winter through the flowers is icing
And you look to the north and a pale moon is rising
And it seems like all is dying and would leave the world to mourn
In the distance hear the laughter of the last unicorn
I’m alive, I’m alive
When the last moon is cast over the last star of morning
And the future has passed without even a last desperate warning
Then look into the sky where through the clouds a path is torn
Look and see her how she sparkles, it’s the last unicorn
I’m alive, I’m alive