And now, I'm a best selling author, a different sort of fairy tale that I still sometimes wonder when I'll wake up from.

I didn't know your identity, but I had an impression of who my opponent was, being surrounded by things you made.

I think that's a hallmark of a really good story that it has readers that it speaks to more than others.

I find I think of myself not as a writer so much as someone who provides a gateway, a tangential route for readers to reach the circus. To visit the circus again, if only in their minds, when they are unable to attend it physically. I relay it through printed words on crumpled newsprint, words that they can read again and again, returning to the circus whenever they wish, regardless of time of day or physical location. Transporting them at will. When put that way, it sounds rather like magic, doesn't it? p.369

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

Chandresh relishes reactions. Genuine reactions, not mere polite applause. He often values the reactions over the show itself. A show without an audience is nothing, after all. In the response of the audience, that is where the power of performance lives.

He remembers when he was very small his mother once said she wished happiness and adventure for him. If this does not count as adventure, he is not sure what does.