... every time you look at the world and the people in it closely, lovingly, imaginatively, it changes you. The world, under the microscope of your attention, opens up like a beautiful, strange flower and gives itself back to you in ways you could never imagine.

Things are not at all what they seem to be: oh no, not at all.

But still, here are the words Despereaux Tilling spoke to his father. He said, "I forgive you, Pa!" And he said those words because he sensed that it was the only way to save his heart, to stop it from breaking in two. Despereaux, reader, spoke those words to save himself.

I write two pages - that's all I write. It takes me about an hour. I've learned that's all I'm capable of and to push myself beyond that is foolhardy. It's a very delicate thing, and I will not abuse it. So I write two pages, then I get up from the computer.

The shapes arranged themselves into words, and the words spelled out a delicious and wonderful phrase: Once upon a time.

And so he was reading the story as if it were a spell and the words of it, spoken aloud, could make magic happen.

Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark.