Witchery Is Merely A Word For What

Lies Were Like Having A Pregnant Rabbit. One Day You Had One, But Before You Knew It, There Were Rabbits All Over The Place.

I Want To Touch The Heart Of The World And Make It Smile.

That's The Thing With Magic. You've Got To Know It's Still Here, All Around Us, Or It Just Stays Invisible For You.

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.

I Suppose The Other Thing Too Many Forget Is That We Were All Stories Once, Each And Every One Of Us. And We Remain Stories. But Too Often We Allow Those Stories To Grow Banal, Or Cruel Or Unconnected To Each Other.we Allow The Stories To Continue, But They No Longer Have A Heart. They No Longer Sustain Us.