She knew this music--knew it down to the very core of her being--but she had never heard it before. Unfamiliar, it had still always been there inside her, waiting to be woken. It grew from the core of mystery that gives a secret its special delight, religion its awe. It demanded to be accepted by simple faith, not dissected or questioned, and at the same time, it begged to be doubted and probed.

The road leading to a goal does not separate you from the destination; it is essentially a part of it.

Not everything has to mean something. Some things just are.

The magic in this world seems to work in whispers and small kindnesses.

I'm not as trusting as people think I am. Sure, I see the best in people, but that doesn't mean it's really there.

It reminded me of that tongue-in-cheek quick history of art I'd overheard...Used to be people couldn't draw very well, then they could, and now they can't again.

That's the thing with magic. You've got to know it's still here, all around us, or it just stays invisible for you.