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.

When one of my characters becomes aware of a magical element, it might be because the world is wider than we assume it to be, but it might also be a reminder to pay attention to what is here already, hidden only because it's been forgotten.

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

It is important to know what a person was. But it's more important to know what they are now.

What I want to do is travel deep and deeper into the dreamlands, to find that place that I know is waiting for me here. My home.

I want to be magic. I want to touch the heart of the world and make it smile. I want to be a friend of elves and live in a tree. Or under a hill. I want to marry a moonbeam and hear the stars sing. I don't want to pretend at magic anymore. I want to be magic.

... we chase after ghosts and spirits and are left holding only memories and dreams. It's not that we want what we can't have; it's that we've held all we could want and then had to watch it slip away.