It May Sound Trite, But Using The

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.

Every Time You Do A Good Deed You Shine The Light A Little Farther Into The Dark. And The Thing Is, When You're Gone That Light Is Going To Keep Shining On, Pushing The Shadows Back.

If You Don't Believe That The World Has A Heart, Then You Won't Hear It Beating, You Won't Think It's Alive And You Won't Consider What You're Doing To It.

Wondering’s Healthy. Broadens The Mind. Opens You Up To All Sorts Of Stray Thoughts And Possibilities.

I Want To Be Magic. I Want To Touch The Heart Of The World And Make It Smile. I Want To Be A Friend Of Elves And Live In A Tree. Or Under A Hill. I Want To Marry A Moonbeam And Hear The Stars Sing. I Don't Want To Pretend At Magic Anymore. I Want To Be Magic.