She was no longer a slow dreamer watching the flowers grow. She was a warrior now. Warriors need something to fight for though, beside their lives, because otherwise their lives will not be worth it.

You make me feel like I have wings when you touch me.

Pulling heads off Barbies, sticking them on the TV antenna and ruining the reception. But thats how witch babies are.

It's not that I literally think I'm a fearie. It's just that I feel so different from most people. And this idea of a race living underground in caverns, spending all their days dancing and playing the fiddle and eating flowers and reciting poetry and sharing their dreams, that to me sounds much more real than the way people live in this world, hating and fighting and wanting and hurting.

My mother said, "kiss him, darling, it's easy so natural" and I thought to myself, not with lips of stone, dear mother, not with lips of stone

She began to feel like the plastic doll she had been named after, without even a hole where her mouth was supposed to be.

Magic can be found in stolen moments.