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

As children, we come into the world with a natural desire to both speak and draw. Society makes sure that we learn language properly, right from the beginning, but art is treated as a gift of innate genius, something we either have or don't.

Writing music uses a whole different process that involves a lot of noodling and just seeing what comes.

It's not something you can prove....I know you hate to hear this, but you either have it, or you don't.

Like legend and myth, magic fades when it is unused - hence all the old tales of elfin kingdoms moving further and further away from our world, or that magical beings require our faith, our belief in their existence, to survive. That is a lie. All they require is our recognition.

We're all made of stories. When they finally put us underground, the stories are what will go on.

I'm not...' Angharad began, but then she thought. Not what? Not a bad person? Perhaps. But had she never known anger? Never held unkind thoughts? The stranger's observation was valid. No one was innocent of darkness.