You ever want to see real witchcraft, you watch people protecting their comfort, their beliefs.

You ever want to see real witchcraft, you watch people protecting their comfort, their beliefs.

Never run from anything immortal. It attracts their attention.

No," he repeated, and this time the word tolled in another voice, a king's voice... whose grief was not for what he did not have, but for what he could not give.

You pile of stones, you waste, you desolation, I'll stuff you with misery till it comes out of your eyes. I'll change your heart into green grass, and all you love into a sheep. I'll turn you into a bad poet with dreams.

The horns came riding in like the rainbow masts of silver ships.

But I still feel I waste a lot of time leaning on my elbow and thinking to myself, 'alright sucker, now what?'