She had met people who had tried to fit in. She had met people who tried to stand out. But until then she had never met anyone who simply tried to be themselves without expecting anything from those around them. It was a refreshing experience.

The trees were dappling again. They loved to dapple, it seemed to be their favorite pastime. They could use anything of course: moonlight, starshine, candlelight, and rain. Today they used the sunlight that the sky supplied, and dappled nearly everything with it, from grass, water, and stones, to Lydia and Livy themselves as they walked along the trail that led out of Mulberry Glen.

Letting one's mind wander is rather like the human equivalent of dappling. The pleasant whisper of memories (some shaded, some illuminated) dance through you mind in a kaleidoscope of patterns, mixing with ideas and remembered imaginings.

Books, I think, are what magic smells like.

I would like to be made into a book, if I were a tree.

Lydia paused, looking out at the forest, now decked with echoes of brilliant hues, and saw, to her delight, what Pit's seeds had grown into. For among the trees and bushes and vines, were the bright gold blossoms of dozens of sunflowers, turning their great beautiful heads towards the sun, and the world was filled with the sweet earthy fragrance of their flowers.

A troubled mind can make rocket science out of nearly anything.

Bravery can only be called so if it is needed. If you do something simply to prove that you can, it may be impressive or daring, but it is not brave.

The trees were dappling again. They loved to dapple, it seemed to be their favorite pastime.

The more one discovers, the more one realizes how much more there is to discover.