A book is a wonderful present. Though it may grow worn, it will never grow old.

We all have such stories. It is a brutal arithmetic. But I - I am alive. You are alive. As long as we breathe, we can see and hear. As long as we can remember, all those gone before are alive inside us.

You can only chase a butterfly for so long.

Folklore is the perfect second skin. From under its hide, we can see all the shimmering, shadowy uncertainties of the world.

The tales of Elfland do not stand or fall on their actuality but on their truthfulness, their speaking to the human condition, the longings we all have for the Faerie Other.

How often is the passing of one storm only a prelude to another.

Love the writing, love the writing, love the writing... the rest will follow.