And there the wicked witch stayed for a long long time.' Did she ever come out?' Not yet.

But she woke up just then, and in the moonlight covered herself with a blanket. She smiled at him drowsily and called him "Yero, my hero," and that melted his heart.

A capacity for inferiority in the growing adult is threatened by the temptation by squander that capacity ruthlessly, to revel in hallowness. The syndrom especially plaques anyone who lives behind a mask. An elephant in her disquise as a human princess, a scarecrow with painted features, a glittering tiara under which to glow and glide in anonymous glamour. A witch's hat, a wizards stole, a scholars gown, a soldiers dress sartorials. A hundred ways to duck the question: how will I live with myself now that I nkow what I know.

The thing about a mirror is this: The one who stares into it is condemned to consider the world from her own perspective.

One plus one equals both.

In the end, all disguises must drop.

Don't wish,"said Rain, "don't start. Wishing only...