When You're Invisible, No One Can See

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.

Witchery Is Merely A Word For What We Are All Capable Of.

Look Inside Yourself For The Answers - You're The Only One Who Knows What's Best For You. Everybody Else Is Only Guessing.

There Are No Happy Endings... There Are No Endings, Happy Or Otherwise. We All Have Our Own Stories Which Are Just Part Of The One Story That Binds Both This World And Faerie. Sometimes We Step Into Each Others Stories - Perhaps Just For A Few Minutes, Perhaps For Years - And Then We Step Out Of Them Again. But All The While, The Story Just Goes On.

I've Always Been Aware Of The Otherworld, Of Spirits That Exist In That Twilight Place That Lies In The Corner Of Our Eyes, Of Fairie And Stranger Things Still That We Spy Only When We're Not Really Paying Attention To Them, Whispers And Flickering Shadows, Here One Moment, Gone The Instant We Turn Our Heads For A Closer Look. But I Couldn't Always Find Them. And When I Did, For A Long Time I Thought They Were Only This Excess Of Imagination That I Carry Around Inside Me, That Somehow It Was Leaking Out Of Me Into The World.