Guessing a thing ain't knowing a thing.
I will not allow anyone to take anything off my palette but if I do then within that, I can be creative.
Midnight passes and I'm twenty-five days and a million years from becoming a man.
Just cuz yer going there and I'm staying here," I say. "It don't mean we're parting." "No," she says and I know she understands. "No, it certainly doesn't." "I ain't parting from you again," I say, still looking at our fingers. "Not even in my head.
But, somehow, Wilf knows. Somehow, Wilf always knows.
Sometimes witches merit saving. Quite often, actually. You'd be surprised.