I’m kind of big on performance in general. I like the sort of entertainment where you can go in and be fully immersed in it.
It is perhaps both a blessing and a curse that fictional worlds spring into my mind nearly fully formed and it takes quite a while to sift through everything to find the story.
It’s a wonderful sort of feeling when people want to spend more time in a world you created.
Tarot is just stories on cards.
The fact that people are already reading and loving something I wrote is still hard to believe.
The night that seemed endless hours before is now slipping through your fingers, ticking by as it falls into the past and pushes you towards the future.
You told me love was fickle and fleeting.
Timing is a sensitive thing.
The most difficult thing to read is time. Maybe because it changes so many things.
You’re in the right place at the right time, and you care enough to do what needs to be done. Sometimes that’s enough.
I don’t think there’s anything wrong being a dreamer.
People don’t pay much attention to anything unless you give them reason to.
The circus arrives without warning.
I have been surrounded by love letters you two have built each other for years, encased in tents.
He forgets that he was someone’s dream once, himself.
Is magic not enough to live for?
I do not see as well without her. I do not hear as well without her. I do not feel as well without her. I would be better off without a hand or a leg than without my sister.
That man has no shadow.
And before he can tell her to tell Widget goodbye for him if need be, she leans forward and kisses him, not on the cheek, as she has a handful of times before, but on the lips, and Bailey knows in that moment that he will follow her anywhere.
Old stories have a habit of being told and retold and changed. Each subsequent storyteller puts his or her mark upon it. Whatever truth the story once had is buried in bias and embellishment. The reasons do not matter as much as the story itself.