The rules of magic, my dear, are best not discusses. For once we understand the illusion, we no longer believe it.

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Everyone's dying. A little, every day. Make it count.

Maybe girls need an island to find themselves. Maybe they need a place where no one's is watching them so they can be who they really are

The dark does not weep for itself because there is no light. Rather, it accepts that it is the dark.

We all walk in a land of dreams. For what are we but atoms and hope, a handful of stardust and sinew? We are weary travelers trying to find our way home on a road that never ends. Am I a part of your dream? or are you but a part of mine?