You’re not destined or chosen, I wish I could tell you that you were if that would make it easier, but it’s not true. 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.
They are a bunch of fish covered in feathers trying to convince the public they can fly, and I am simply a bird in their midst.
I am tired of denying myself what I want for fear of breaking things I cannot fix. They will break no matter what we do.
Because everything requires energy,′ she recites obediently, eyes still focused on her hand. ‘We must put effort and energy into anything we wish to change.
There’s magic in that. It’s in the listener, and for each and every ear it will be different, and it will affect them in ways they can never predict. From the mundane to the profound. You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone’s soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose.
They seek each other out, these people of such specific like mind. They tell of how they found the circus, how those first few steps were like magic.
There are tents, I am certain, that I have not discovered in my many visits to the circus. Though I have seen a great deal of the sights, traveled a number of the available paths, there are always corners that remain unexplored, doors that remain unopened.” -Friedrick Thiessen, 1896.
I knew that, and still it surprised me. How long I was willing to wait for something that was only a possibility.
I know, interference is one of the very few things that is apparently against the rules. I do not intend to interfere, I intend to learn his systems so I can stop having to constantly manage so much of the circus.
Celia endeavors to be as helpful as she can, which consists mainly of fetching cups of tea and finding new and creative ways to assure people everything will be fine.
The past stays on you the way powdered sugar stays on your fingers.
Magic is secreand secrets are magic...
Striving for uniqueness in a world of sameness.
Names are not of nearly as much import as people like to suppose.
When she is unable to avoid the matter further, she makes a pot of tea.
A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world. – OSCAR WILDE, 1888.
During the hours spent watching the sheep as they wander aimlessly around their fields, he even wishes that someone would come and take him away, but wishes on sheep appear to work no better than wishes on stars.
I am tired of trying to hold things together that cannot be held. Trying to control what cannot be controlled. I am tired of denying myself what I want for fear of breaking things I cannot fix. They will break no matter what we do.
Memories begin to creep forward from hidden corners of your mind. Passing disappointments. Lost chances and lost causes. Heartbreaks and pain and desolate, horrible loneliness. Sorrows you thought long forgotten mingle with still-fresh wounds.
Most maidens are perfectly capable of rescuing themselves in my experience, at least the ones worth something, in any case.