Gingerbread

The forests are alive, boy. They live and love and hate, just the same as you and me

Why would his papa refuse to come to the forests, when the forests make him so happy?

Sometimes, memories are like dreams

When somebody says I need, it means that the thing they will tell you is a terror, and must not really be heard at all

you know what it is to let a wicked thought enter that heart? he says, with sing-song voice and a single finger pointing to the boy’s breast. That thought can take hold and poison even the very good things in you.

because even pretending and knowing you’re pretending is better than not pretending at all.