I Guess I Was Raised In A

Wasn't There A Spell For Making Yourself Happy? Somebody Must Have Invented One. How Could He Have Missed It? Why Didn't They Teach It? Was It In The Library, A Flying Book Fluttering Just Out Of Reach, Beating Its Wings Against Some High Window?

In A Way Fighting Was Just Like Using Magic. You Said The Words, And They Altered The Universe. By Merely Speaking You Could Create Damage And Pain, Cause Tears To Fall, Drive People Away, Make Yourself Feel Better, Make Your Life Worse.

I Think For A Long Time, I Was Paralyzed By Some Of My Hopes And Ideals For What My Life Was Going To Be Like. I Had This Perfect Vision Of How My Life Should Go, But It Seemed - It Was - Impossible To Realize, So I Sat Around For A Long, Long Time Doing Almost Nothing At All.

Being Brave Was Easy When You Would Rather Die Than Give Up.

There's A Special Gut-check Moment The First Time You Write A Scene In Which Somebody Casts A Spell.