“ She was only half Bird now, and the other half song. She liked it that way. ”
That is what I love best about dreams, and about makings, good makings. They are folded-up buds of complications and mysteries, and if you stay with them patiently, they will unfold and unfold, and never stop unfolding. Dreams are flowers that never stop blooming.
~ Katherine Catmull
You don't drown because you can't breathe. You drown because you try to breathe what is not breathable.
On one of the right-side-up pages show wrote, with some difficulty, Know what roots know: there is only one tree.
She wasn't a cruel Bird. But her heart ached so badly for these sad, broken birds that, just as the Puppeteer had planned, she had begun to hate them. She hated them for making her feel so wretched, when she should be happiest. That happens sometimes.
