Everything I have done, every change I have made to that circus, every impossible feat and astounding sight, I have done for her.

I don't think there's anything wrong being a dreamer.

I don;t think there's anything wrong with being a dreamer. There is not. But dreams have ways of turning into nightmares.

Memories begin to creep forward from hidden corners of your mind. Passing disappointments. Lost chances and lost causes. Heartbreaks and pain and desolate, horrible loneliness. Sorrows you thought long forgotten mingle with still-fresh wounds.

The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not.

Is magic not enough to live for?

I think I get some of my love of adult books that can be fun from Douglas Adams.