Even, she thought, even without the gift of witchsight, there was more beauty to be found in the world than could ever be snared in language or music. And with the sight.

But that's what we all are-just stories. We only exist by how people remember us, by the stories we make of our lives. Without the stories, we'd just fade away.

You've got to spread out as far as you can, cut down a whole forest, irrigate a whole desert, just to make sure that you won't accidentally stumble upon a place that's still in its natural state.

We call them faerie. We don't believe in them. Our loss.

The problem with children is that you have to put up with their parents.

The puppet thinks: It's not so much what they make me do as their hands inside me.

The thing with pretending you're in a good mood is that sometimes you can actually trick yourself into feeling better.