When all else failed, she tried being reasonable.

This time it had been magic. And it didn't stop being magic just because you found out how it was done.

I'd like to walk on the moon (and return).

Vampires have risen from the dead, the grave, and the crypt, but have never managed it from the cat.

She was also, by the standards of other people, lost. She would not see it like that. She knew where she was, it was just that everywhere else didn't.

I'd like to sell a lot of books.

History isn't like that. History unravels gently, like an old sweater. It has been patched and darned many times, reknitted to suit different people, shoved in a box under the sink of censorship to be cut up for the dusters of propaganda, yet it always - eventually - manages to spring back into its old familar shape. History has a habit of changing the people who think they are changing it. History always has a few tricks up its frayed sleeve. It's been around a long time.