“ Where have they gone? Wherever magicians used to go. Behind the sky. On the other side of the rain. ”
He said, Were he only like his sister—what a difference that would make! For there never was such a sweet and gentle lady! I hear her footsteps, as she goes about the world. I hear the swish-swish-swish of her silken gown and the jingle-jangle of the silver chain about her neck. Her smile is full of comfort and her eyes are kind and happy! How I long to see her! Who, sir? asked Paramore, puzzled. Why, his sister, John. His sister.
~ Susanna Clarke
Most of us are naturally inclined to struggle against the restrictions our friends and family impose upon us, but if we are so unfortunate as to lose a loved one, what a difference then! Then the restriction becomes a sacred trust.
Time and I have quarrelled. All hours are midnight now. I had a clock and a watch, but I destroyed them both. I could not bear the way they mocked me.
I was told once by some country people that a magician should never tell his dreams because the telling will make them come true. But I say that is great nonsense.