Fairy Tales And Mythology Have Always Been

Well, You Know This World Isn't Perfect.' 'no, You're Wrong. This World Is Perfect, People Just Come Along And Mess It Up Sometimes.

It's Easy To Believe In Magic When You're Young. Anything You Couldn't Explain Was Magic Then. It Didn't Matter If It Was Science Or A Fairy Tale. Electricity And Elves Were Both Infinitely Mysterious And Equally Possible - Elves Probably More So.

All Forests Have Their Own Personality. I Don't Just Mean The Obvious Differences, Like How An English Woodland Is Different From A Central American Rain Forest, Or Comparing Tracts Of West Coast Redwoods To The Saguaro Forests Of The American Southwest... They Each Have Their Own Gossip, Their Own Sound, Their Own Rustling Whispers And Smells. A Voice Speaks Up When You Enter Their Acres That Can't Be Mistaken For One You'd Hear Anyplace Else, A Voice True To Those Particular Tress, Individual Rather Than Of Their Species.

From The First Time He'd Met Her, He'd Sensed An Air Of Contradiction About Her. She Was Very Much A Woman, But Still Retained A Waiflike Quality. She Could Be Brash, And At Times Deliberately Suggestive, Yet She Was Painfully Shy. She Was Incredibly Easy To Get Along With, Yet She Had Few Friends. She Was A Talented Artist In Her Own Right, But So Self-conscious About Her Work That She Rarely Completed A Piece And Preferred To Work With Other People's Art And Ideas.

Everything Has A Spirit And It's All Connected. If You Think About That, If You Live Your Life By It, Then You're Less Likely To Cause Any Hurt. It's Like How Our Bodies Go Back Into The Ground When We Die, So That Connects Us To The Earth. If You Dump Trash, You're Dumping It On Your And My Ancestors. Or To Bring It Down To Its Simplest Level: Treat Everything And Everybody The Way You Want To Be Treated, Because When You Hurt Someone, You're Only Hurting Yourself.