A labyrinth, when it is big enough, is just the world.

I perceive that you have a cruel heart, my child. It lies within your breast like a smoldering blade, hissing steam at me.

At the snowy summit of all these things, however, is the fact that you simply cannot go about locking your siblings in towers when they misbehave. It is unseemly and betrays a sad lack of creativity.

A labyrinth, when it is big enough, is just the world.

Temperament, you'll find, is highly dependent on time of day, weather, frequency of naps, and whether one has had enough to eat.

But lost children always find each other, in the dark, in the cold. It is as though they are magnetized, and can only attract their like.

The great blessing and great cruelty of youth is that there seems to be time enough.