In a way. Magic is the act of making a wish come about. Like praying, like plotting, like herbs, like exerting your will on the world, making something happen.

He had taken George, my beloved George, from me. And he had taken my other self: Anne.

I would play ball with Catherine, and hide and seek: Not a very challenging game in an open meadow, but she was still at the age where she believed that if she shut her eyes and buried her head under a shawl then she could not be seen.

But young hearts mend easily, and hearts that own half of England have something better to do than to beat faster for love.

Stars in the night,' he said. 'Something something something something, some delight

I was born to be your rival,' she [Anne] said simply. 'And you mine. We're sisters, aren't we?

I would know you anywhere for my true love. Whoever I was and whoever you were, I would know you at once for my true love.