But Dreams Have Ways Of Turning Into

This Is, In Part, Why There Is Less Magic In The World Today. Magic Is Secret And Secrets Are Magic, After All, And Years Upon Years Of Teaching And Sharing Magic And Worse. Writing It Down In Fancy Books That Get All Dusty With Age Has Lessened It, Removed Its Power Bit By Bit.

The Sensation Reminds Him Of The First Snow Of Winter, For Those First Few Hours When Everything Is Blanketed In White, Soft And Quiet.

I Made A Wish On This Tree Years Ago," Marco Says. "what Did You Wish For?" Bailey Asks. Marco Leans Forward And Whispers In Bailey's Ear. "i Wished For Her.

The Circus Itself Is My Personal Ideal Entertainment Venue.

You Send Me All These Roses. Every Time I Think The Last Bouquet Has Arrived, Finally, Another Turns Up. I’m Running Out Of Vases. I Didn’t Know Roses Came In So Many Colors. You Say They’re The Perfect Symbols Of Love Because They Have Thorns And Love Is Pain. I Say Life Is Pain, Highness. Anyone Who Says Differently Is Selling Something. And You Don’t Get It. You Say You Love Me, But You Don’t Speak My Language. You Don’t Even Realize I’m An Orchid Girl.