One expected growth, change; without it, the world was less, the well of inspiration dried up, the muses fled.

I think you're all mad. But that's part and parcel of being an artistic genius, isn't it?

Magic lies in between things, between the day and the night, between yellow and blue, between any two things.

Let it go on record that any confusion arose simply because we lacked certain commonalities of reference.

Every time we fix something that broken, whether it's a car engine or a broken heart, that an act of magic. And what makes it magic is that we choose to create or help, just as we can choose to harm.

"... he had understood, better than anyone ... the beauty that grew out of the simple knowledge that everything, no matter how small or large it might be, was a perfect example of what it was."

The fey wonders of the world only exist while there are those with the sight to see them.