You Ever Want To See Real Witchcraft,

- And You Are Truly Human Now. You Can Love, And Fear, And Forbid Things To Be What They Are, And Overact.

I Suppose I Could Understand It If Men Had Simply Forgotten Unicorns, But Not To See Them At All, To Look At Them And See Something Else — What Do They Look To One Another, Then? What Do Trees Look Like To Them, Or Houses, Or Real Horses, Or Their Own Children?

I Am Infected With Life And Will Die Of It In Time.

Ravens Bring Things To People. We're Like That. It's Our Nature. We Don't Like It.

I Am Afraid! It Is Not Starving I Fear, Or Talking To People, Or Even Being Alone. But I Cannot Bear To Be Useless And Ineffectual. There Must Be Some Meaning To Me, If Not To My Life; There Must Surely Be Some Purpose That Has My Name Written On It. If This Is Not So, If I Am Deceiving Myself About This Too, Then Why Should I Want To Become Real? What Reason Have I To Live Anywhere?