What galloped through was a whirlwind of lights. It seemed to have no substance, only motion and prismatic flame. Colors danced off from it, blindingly. There were no chimes now. But there was the unmistakable whir of wheels, the sharp striking of hooves. More fearsome than the soldiers' swords, a savage horn slashed the air in pieces.

But the crellest is the Unicorne, a Monster that belloweth horriblie, bodyed like a horse, footed like an Eliphant, tayled like a Swyne, and headed like a Stagge. His horne sticketh out of the midds of hys forehead, of a wonderful brightness about foure foote long, so sharp, that whatsoever he pusheth at, he striketh it through easily. He is never caught alive; kylled he may be, but taken he cannot bee.

--- Julius Solinus, Polyhistor (early 3rd Century; English translation 1587)

And into the world came the unicorn: first and last flying on wings of milky glass, landing like a satin ghost on the rocky promontories of creation. It stands erect in the predawn wind, waiting for earthrise. Around it blow silent winds, while meteors and comets hurl their fire, and dragon clouds collide.

--- Josephine Bradley, In Pursuit of the Unicorn (1980)

On the Canadian border there are sometimes seen animals resembling horses, but with cloven hoofs, rough manes, a long straight horn upon the forehead . . .

 --- Dr. Olfert Dapper (1639-1689), explorer and cartographer (1673)

Jim:    What kind of thing is this one supposed to be?
Laura:  Haven't you noticed the single horn on its forehead?
Jim:    A unicorn, huh?
Laura:  Mmmm-hmmm.
Jim:    Unicorns, aren't they extinct in the modern world?
Laura:  I know!
Jim:    Poor little fellow, he must feel sorta lonesome.

The unicorns were the most recognizable magic the fairies possessed, and they sent them to those worlds where belief in the magic was in danger of failing altogether. After all, there has to be some belief in the magic—however small—for any world to survive.

It is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn. Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips.

--- J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone

I seek to come close to the unicorn, to feel for myself the curve of its horn, the cool of its satin silver skin. In my dreams I caress it, possess it, feel soft in my hair its dragonfly breath. I roam with it in meadows high with flowers, foxgloves, and daisies, the iris and the wild red rose. The mountains rise blue and magical in the distance; the sunlight sends golden needles darting through the stream; the air is heavy with the scent of lilies.

--- Josephine Bradley, A Small Book of Unicorns

Redeem
The time.  Redeem
The unread vision in the higher dream
While jeweled unicorns draw by the gilded hearse.

The Orsaean Indians hunt an exceedingly wild beast called the monoceros, which has a stag's head, elephant's feet, and a boar's tail, the rest of its body being like that of a horse. It makes a deep lowing noise, and one black horn two cubits long projects from the middle of its forehead.

 --- Pliny the Elder, philosopher (1st Century)

--- William Shakespeare, Timon of Athens (Act 3, Scene 3)

"There's a unicorn in the garden," the husband tells his sleeping wife.

"The unicorn is a mythical beast," she replies, and turns her back on him.

"The unicorn ate a lily," he announces to her a while later, keeping her informed.

"You are a booby," she says, sitting up in bed, "and I am going to have you put in the booby-hatch."

She reports him, he claims never to have made such statements, and she is the one carted off to the booby-hatch.

--- James Thurber's short story "The Unicorn In The Garden"

Each month the unicorns gathered at dusk to dance in a Circle under the full, dusky moon. They were the only race they knew of that did so. For when Alma made the world, she fashioned all the other creatures first, out of earth, wind, water, and air—then invited them to dance. But the pans turned wordless away from her, and the gryphons flew to find mountains to nest in, and the red dragons burrowed deep into the Smoking Hills, and the wyverns laughed.

So Alma created the unicorns after her own shape: sleek-bodied and long-limbed for swift running, wild-hearted and hot-blooded to make them brave warriors. Then she took from the cycling moon some of its shining stuff to fashion their hooves and horns and make them dancers. So the last-born and best-beloved of Alma called themselves also the moon's children, and each month danced the ring dance under the round, rising moon.

--- Meredith Ann Pierce, Birth of the Firebringer

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.

--- T. H. White

I have forgotten that men cannot see Unicorns. If men no longer know what they're looking at, there may be other unicorns in the world yet, unknown. I'm glad of it.

--- Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn (1968)

I was bathing in a lake when I saw the unicorn.... It is an injustice to say merely that its coat was white. Oh, it was white, all right, but it was more than that. It was a white like I remember the best vanilla ice cream, but finer and smoother. Sometimes the sun hit it just right and bright rainbow crescents fanned out like light through a fine spray of water.

The hooves were mirror bright—platinum or silver, I couldn't tell. A distant lighthouse beacon on a lonely night, the spiral horn rose from the noble head: milky white, warm and welcoming.... Eyes full of life and intelligence. Eyes I could fall into. Lover's eyes.... As it moved, the mane shimmered on its muscular neck like a road on a hot day.

--- Steven R. Boyett, Ariel