He Didn't Know What He Wanted. He

Flutter Like A Hummingbird, Dive Like An Eagle, Ain't No Bird That's My Equal. - Twilight

Dreams Weigh Nothing. - Marie Antoinette

Every Pellet Has A Story All Its Own. Every Pellet Has A Story All Its Own. With Its Fur And Teeth And Bones And One Or Two Stones, Every Pellet Has A Story All Its Own. We Shall Dissect Every Pellet With Glee. Perhaps We'll Find A Rodents Knee. And Never Shall We Tire In The Sacred Task That We Conspire, No Do Our Work Less Perfectly And Those Bright Flecks At The Core, Which Makes Our Hearts Soar, Shall Forever Remain The Deepest Mystery. - The Owlets In The Pelletorium At St. Aegolius

Far Away If First Black, But It Shall Be Back Over Field Over Flower In The Twilight Hour. We Are Home In Our Tree. We Are Owls, We Are Free. As We Go, This We Know Glaux Is Nigh.

When I Was Growing Up I Loved Reading Historical Fiction, But Too Often It Was About Males; Or, If It Was About Females, They Were Girls Who Were Going To Grow Up To Be Famous Like Betsy Ross, Clara Barton, Or Harriet Tubman. No One Ever Wrote About Plain, Normal, Everyday Girls.