Witchery Is Merely A Word For What

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.

It's Not All About Getting Your Own Way. Sometimes There's A Bigger Picture.

Only Fools Think They're Wise; The Rest Of Us Just Muddle Through As We Can.

There Were Two Forests For Every One You Entered. There Was The One You Walked In, The Physical Echo, And Then There Was The One That Was Connected To All The Other Forests, With No Consideration Of Distance, Or Time. The Forest Primeval, Remembered Through The Collective Memory Of Every Tree In The Same Way That People Remembered Myth- Through The Collective Subconscious That Jung Mapped, The Shared Mythic Resonance That Lay Buried In Every Human Mind. Legend And Myth, All Tangled In An Alphabet Of Trees Remembered, Not Always With Understanding, But With Wonder. With Awe.

Often The Magical Elements In My Books Are Standing In For Elements Of The Real World, The Small And Magical-in-their-own-right Sorts Of Things That We Take For Granted And No Longer Pay Attention To, Like The Bonds Of Friendship That Entwine Our Own Lives With Those Of Other People And Places.