The dull pain of truth weights my soul, pulling it under. I am left hopelessly awake.
To each his own magic.
To those who will see, the world waits.
Everything is randomly connected.
...I do have to wonder what sort of childhood the Grimm brothers endured. They are not a merry bunch of storytellers, what with their children roasted by witches, maidens poisoned by old crones, and whatnot.
People will believe anything if it means they can go on with their lives and not have to think too hard about it.