People always did like to talk, didn't they? That's why I call myself a witch now: the Wicked Witch of the West, if you want the full glory of it. As long as people are going to call you a lunatic anyway, why not get the benefit of it? It liberates you from convention.

Little critters fried like fritters come out crunchy and divine.

No one controls your destiny. Even at the very worst - there is always choice.

If magic was present, it moved under the skin of the world, beneath the ability of human eyes to catch sight of it.

One never learns how the witch became wicked, or whether that was the right choice for her~is it ever the right choice? Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil?

The body apologizes to the soul for its errors, and the soul asks forgiveness for squatting in the body without invitation.

The colossal might of wickedness: how we love to locate it massively elsewhere. But so much of it comes down to what each one of us does between breakfast and bedtime.