The momentum of the mind can be vexingly, involuntarily capricious.

Birds know themselves not to be at the center of anything, but at the margins of everything. The end of the map. We only live where someone's horizon sweeps someone else's. We are only noticed on the edge of things; but on the edge of things, we notice much.

Not everyone is born a witch or a saint. Not everyone is born talented, or crooked, or blessed; some are born definite in no particular at all. We are a fountain of shimmering contradictions, most of us. Beautiful in the concept, if we're lucky, but frequently tedious or regrettable as we flesh ourselves out.

Galinda didn't often stop to consider whether she believed in what she said or not; the whole point of conversations was flow.

What goes unnamed remains hard to correct.

at least i'm talkng to myself. instead of giving myself the cold shoulder

I am a forgettable leaf on a tree.