No, officer, I have no idea why I'm wearing this possum costume. I called you what? OH. My bad." -Nastasya

Of course, when we got home, we found that Dagda had peed on my down comforter. He had also eaten part of Mom's maidenhair fern and barfed it up on the carpet. Then he had apparently worked himself into a frenzy sharpening his ting by amazingly effective claws on the armrest of my dad's favorite chair. Now he was asleep on a pillow, curled up like a fuzzy little snail. "God, he's so cute," I said, shaking my head.

Fire is a fragile lover, court her well, neglect her not; her faith is like a misty smoke, her anger is destructive hot.

I didn't know where this stuff was coming from - all of a sudden I was a little magickal sprite, bonding with my stone, feeling my earth roots, la la la... All I can is describe the way it felt. And that was how it felt. So sue me. Was I swaying? I felt like I might be swaying.

What an amazing day," Bree said, stretching in her seat. "Thanks to me and my weather charm." I said lightly. Robbie and Hunter both looked at me in alarm. "You didn't," Said Robbie. "You didn't," Said Hunter. I was enjoying this. "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't." Hunter looked upset. "You can't be serious!" Cahn't, I thought. Cahn too.

Being good is something that one must choose over and over again, every day, throughout the day, for the rest of one’s life.

I-just want you. I want you so bad, all the time. I know I shouldn't, I know I can't, I know it's wrong... but even when you're pissing me off, when you're reminding me of pain and despair and torture-it's there, the wanting. I'm tired of fighting it. I fight so many things, all the time, every day. I don't want to fight this. Not anymore.