We're So Quick To Cut Away Pieces

There's Stories And Then There's Stories. The Ones With Any Worth Change Your Life Forever, Perhaps Only In A Small Way, But Once You've Heard Them, They Are Forever A Part Of You. You Nurture Them And Pass Them On, And The Giving Only Makes You Feel Better. The Others Are Just Words On A Page.

I've Always Known And Been Interested In People Who Are A Little Bit Off The Norm. I Like To Call Attention To The Idea That They Are There, That They Are Real People, Not Invisible.

We're So Quick To Cut Away Pieces Of Ourselves To Suit A Particular Relationship, A Job, A Circle Of Friends, Incessantly Editing Who We Are Until We Fit In.

The Puppet Thinks: It's Not So Much What They Make Me Do As Their Hands Inside Me.

I've Always Been Aware Of The Otherworld, Of Spirits That Exist In That Twilight Place That Lies In The Corner Of Our Eyes, Of Fairie And Stranger Things Still That We Spy Only When We're Not Really Paying Attention To Them, Whispers And Flickering Shadows, Here One Moment, Gone The Instant We Turn Our Heads For A Closer Look. But I Couldn't Always Find Them. And When I Did, For A Long Time I Thought They Were Only This Excess Of Imagination That I Carry Around Inside Me, That Somehow It Was Leaking Out Of Me Into The World.