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Do You Remember All Of Your Audiences?" Marco Asks. "not All Of Them," Celia Says. "but I Remember The People Who Look At Me The Way You Do." "what Way Might That Be?" "as Though They Cannot Decide If They Are Afraid Of Me Or They Want To Kiss Me." " I Am Not Afraid Of You," Marco Says.

-Erin Morgenstern

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Do You Remember All

Erin Morgenstern

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Do You Remember All Of Your Audiences?" Marco Asks. "not All Of Them," Celia Says. "but I Remember The People Who Look At Me The Way You Do." "what Way Might That Be?" "as Though They Cannot Decide If They Are Afraid Of Me Or They Want To Kiss Me." " I Am Not Afraid Of You," Marco Says.

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And Before He Can Tell Her To Tell Widget Goodbye For Him If Need Be, She Leans Forward And Kisses Him, Not On The Cheek, As She Has A Handful Of Times Before, But On The Lips, And Bailey Knows In That Moment That He Will Follow Her Anywhere.

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But Dreams Have Ways Of Turning Into Nightmares.

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Sting Told Me If I Love Somebody I Should Set Them Free. I Doubt Sting Ever Loved Anyone With Wings. If He Did He Might Rethink Such A Stupid Sentiment. I Suppose The Point Is To Wait For Your Love To Come Back To You Voluntarily. I Wonder If There’s A Difference Between Setting Something Free And Letting It Go? I Probably Did It Wrong. I Should Stop Taking Advice From My Radio. I Worry That You’re Lost. I Keep A Heart-shaped Cage Unlocked For You, Out On The Street Where It Can Easily Be Seen. So If One Day You Return At Least You’ll Have A Place To Stay.

I Have Never Lied, “ Mr. Barris Counters, Standing As Well. “i Do Not Share What I Am Not At Liberty To Say. I Gave My Word And I Intend To Keep It But I Have Never Lied To You. You Never Even Asked Me, You Assumed I Knew Nothing.

Kelly Link Is Inimitable. Her Stories Are Like Nothing Else, Dark Yet Sparkling With Her Unique Brand Of Fairy Dust. This Is The Most Marvelous Kind Of Trouble To Get In.

How Are You Managing To Keep Everyone From Aging?” Celia Asks After A While. “very Carefully,” Marco Answers.

Misdirection Is One Of My Strengths.

So It’s Really Best To Keep Your Secrets When You Have Them, For Their Own Good, As Well As Yours.

Sharing Secrets

Celia Laughs And A Curl Of Her Hair Falls Across Her Cheek. Marco Tentatively Moves To Brush It Off Her Face, But Before His Fingers Reach Her, She Pushes Herself Off The Ledge, Her Silver Gown A Billowing Cloud As She Falls Onto The Pile Of Jewel-toned Cushions.

I Binge Write. I Think It's Because I Started Seriously Writing By Participating In National Novel Writing Month, An Online-based Challenge To Write 50,000 Words In 30 Days.

Each Of Them Always Gravitating Toward The Other. Yet Still They Do Not Touch.

Her Father Picks Different Names For Her As They Change Locales, But He Uses Miranda Often, Presumably Because He Knows How Much It Annoys Her.

You Don't Have To Be A Chef Or Even A Particularly Good Cook To Experience Proper Kitchen Alchemy: The Moment When Ingredients Combine To Form Something More Delectable Than The Sum Of Their Parts.

I Am Tired Of Trying To Hold Things Together That Cannot Be Held.

Like Stepping Into A Fairy Tale Under A Curtain Of Stars.

I'm An Emotional Sort Of Person In General And I Have A Vivid Imagination, So I Feel The Whole Spectrum Of Emotion Strongly When I Write.

Vivid Imagination

Grow Up, Bailey." "that Is Precisely What I'm Doing," Bailey Says. "i Don't Care If You Don't Understand That. Staying Here Won't Make Me Happy. It Will Make You Happy Because You're Insipid And Boring, And An Insipid, Boring Life Is Enough For You. It's Not Enough For Me. It Will Never Be Enough For Me. So I'm Leaving. Do Me A Favor And Marry Someone Who Will Take Decent Care Of The Sheep.

...have A Theory That She Is In Love With The Dream Of Someone And Not An Actual Person.

I Think That's A Hallmark Of A Really Good Story That It Has Readers That It Speaks To More Than Others.

He Forgets That He Was Someone's Dream Once, Himself.

The Silence That Falls Between Them Is A Comfortable One. He Longs To Reach Over And Touch Her, But He Resists, Fearful Of Destroying The Delicate Camaraderie They Are Building. He Steals Glances Instead, Watching The Way The Light Falls Over Her Skin. Several Times He Catches Her Regarding Him In A Similar Manner, And The Moments When She Holds His Eyes With Hers Are Sublime.

I Have You Here, All Around Me. I Sit In The Ice Garden To Get A Hint Of This, This Way That You Make Me Feel. I Felt It Even Before I Knew Who You Were, And Every Time I Think It Could Not Possibly Get Any Stronger, It Does.

Wine Is Bottled Poetry, He Thinks.

Is It Not That Bad To Be Trapped Somewhere, Then? Depending On Where You're Trapped?" "i Suppose It Depends On How Much You Like The Place You're Trapped In," Widget Says. "and How Much You Like Whoever You're Stuck There With," Poppet Adds, Kicking His Black Boot With Her White One.

I Thought A Circus Environment Would Be An Interesting Venue To Explore, Where You Didn't Just Have One Tent With Three Rings And A Show Going On But Where You Could Explore Different Things In Different Tents.

I Would Have Written You, Myself, If I Could Put Down In Words Everything I Want To Say To You. A Sea Of Ink Would Not Be Enough.' 'but You Built Me Dreams Instead.

Because I Do Not Wish To Know,” He Says. “i Prefer To Remain Unenlightened, To Better Appreciate The Dark.

The Circus Arrives Without Warning. No Announcements Precede It. It Is Simply There, When Yesterday It Was Not.

The Circus Arrives Without Warning. No Announcements Precede It. It Is Simply There, When Yesterday It Was Not. Within The Black-and-white Striped Canvas Tents Is An Utterly Unique Experience Full Of Breathtaking Amazements. It Is Called Le Cirque Des Rêves, And It Is Only Open At Night.

Black And White

I Don't Have Any Particular Rituals, I Sometimes Like To Write In Longhand When I'm Searching For Ideas But I Do The Vast Majority By Typing, I Can't Always Keep Up With My Thoughts Longhand. I'm Not A Coffee Shop Writer Because I Feel Obliged To Order More Coffee And Then I End Up Over-caffeinated.

The Most Difficult Thing To Read Is Time. Maybe Because It Changes So Many Things.

Difficult Things

When You Meet Someone New Who Instantly Gets You, Your Sense Of Humor And Your Attitudes And Your Worldview, Even If Theirs Are Different - And You Get Them In Return. You Both Talk And Talk And Agree And Laugh And Nod And Yes, Yes, Of Course You Should Get Another Round Of Drinks.

I Do Not See As Well Without Her. I Do Not Hear As Well Without Her. I Do Not Feel As Well Without Her. I Would Be Better Off Without A Hand Or A Leg Than Without My Sister.

I Think I Get Some Of My Love Of Adult Books That Can Be Fun From Douglas Adams.

The Circus Looks Abandoned And Empty. But You Think Perhaps You Can Smell Caramel Wafting Through The Evening Breeze, Beneath The Crisp Scent Of The Autumn Leaves. A Subtle Sweetness At The Edges Of The Cold.

And There Are Really Never Endings, Happy Or Otherwise.

I Am A Fan Of Magic And Fantasy, Particularly When It's Grounded In Reality.

I Have Read For Countless People On Innumerable Subjects And The Most Difficult Thing To Understand Within The Cards Is Always The Timing. I Knew That, And Still It Surprised Me. How Long I Was Willing To Wait For Something That Was Only A Possibility. I Always Thought It Was Just A Matter Of Time But I Was Wrong.

I Do Not Mourn The Loss Of My Sister Because She Will Always Be With Me, In My Heart," She Says. "i Am, However, Rather Annoyed That My Tara Has Left Me To Suffer You Lot Alone. I Do Not See As Well Without Her. I Do Not Hear As Well Without Her. I Do Not Feel As Well Without Her. I Would Be Better Off Without A Hand Or A Leg Than Without My Sister. Then At Least She Would Be Here To Mock My Appearance And Claim To Be The Pretty One For A Change. We Have All Lost Our Tara, But I Have Lost A Part Of Myself As Well.

I Am Tired Of Trying To Hold Things Together That Cannot Be Held. Trying To Control What Cannot Be Controlled. I Am Tired Of Denying Myself What I Want For Fear Of Breaking Things I Cannot Fix. They Will Break No Matter What We Do.

People Don’t Pay Much Attention To Anything Unless You Give Them Reason To

She Turns Her Head, Bailey Catches Her Eye, And She Smiles At Him. Not In The Way That One Smiles At A Random Member Of The Audience When One Is In The Middle Of Performing Circus Tricks With Unusually Talented Kittens But In The Way That One Smiles When One Recognizes Someone They Have Not Seen In Some Time.

It Is Destroying Me That I Cannot Ask You To Dance.

Love Is Fickle And Fleeting," Tsukiko Continues. "it Is Rarely A Solid Foundation For Decisions To Be Made Upon, In Any Game.

It Is Difficult To See A Situation For What It Is When You Are In The Midst Of It,” Tsukiko Says. “it Is Too Familiar. Too Comfortable.

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This Is Not Magic. This Is The Way The World Is, Only Very Few People Take The Time To Stop And Note It.

The Burgess Sisters Arrived Together. Tara And Lainie Do A Little Bit Of Everything. Sometimes Dancers, Sometimes Actresses. Once They Were Librarians, But That Is A Subject They Will Only Discuss If Heavily Intoxicated.

Comic-con Was Crazy, Good Crazy... Five Minutes After I'm Done, The Cast Of 'twilight' Is Where I Was Sitting.

We Are Two Different People, Ethan. Just Because You Could Never Decide Which One Of Us You Were In Love With Does Not Make Us Interchangeable.

And Now, I'm A Best Selling Author, A Different Sort Of Fairy Tale That I Still Sometimes Wonder When I'll Wake Up From.

There Is A Movement Happening, A Quiet One. A Low-profile, Low-resolution Revolution. Comprised Of Writers And Dreamers, Of Guerrilla Artists And Thought-ninjas. Those With Something To Say. They Communicate Through Text Inscribed On True Public Spaces, Rather Than Blogs And Forums. Choosing Fewer Words, Even Without Being Bound By 140 Character Limits. Using Ink Instead Of Pixels. Sending Messages In Living, Breathing Space. Pens Scream Louder Into The Void. Even If Permanent Ink Is Not Aptly Named.

All Empires Fall Eventually. It Is The Way Of Things.

“nothing's Impossible,” Poppet Responds. She Smiles At Him And Jumps, Her Red Hair Trailing Out Behind Her As She Falls.

I Mean Only That I Hope They Find Darkness Or Paradise Without Fear Of It, If They Can.

You Believe You Could Not Live With The Pain. Such Pain Is Not Lived With. It Is Only Endured. I Am Sorry.

I Paint Very Messy. I Throw Paint Around. So When I Let Myself Do The Same Sort Of Thing With My Writing, And I Would Just Write And Write And Write And Revise, That's When I Found My Rhythm In Writing.

They Are Enthusiasts, Devotees. Addicts. Something About The Circus Stirs Their Souls, And They Ache For It When It Is Absent. They Seek Each Other Out, These People Of Such Specific Like Mind. They Tell Of How They Found The Circus, How Those First Few Steps Were Like Magic. Like Stepping Into A Fairy Tale Under A Curtain Of Stars… When They Depart, They Shake Hands And Embrace Like Old Friends, Even If They Have Only Just Met, And As They Go Their Separate Ways They Feel Less Alone Than They Had Before.

Tarot Is Just Stories On Cards.

I Have Had Affairs That Lasted Decades And Others That Lasted For Hours. I Have Loved Princesses And Peasants. And I Suppose They Loved Me, Each In Their Way.

It's Too Late. It Was Too Late By The Time I Arrived In London To Turn Your Notebook Into A Dove; There Were Too Many People Already Involved. Anything Either Of Us Does Has An Effect On Everyone Here, On Every Patron Who Walks Through Those Gates. Hundreds If Not Thousands Of People. All Flies In A Spiderweb That Was Spun When I Was Six Years Old And Now I Can Barely Move For Fear Of Losing Someone Else.

You Prefer Not To See The Gears Of The Clock, As To Better Tell Time.

I Think Looking Forward Will Be Better Than Looking Back.

Looking Forward

Do You Remember All Of Your Audiences?" Marco Asks. "not All Of Them," Celia Says. "but I Remember The People Who Look At Me The Way You Do." "what Way Might That Be?" "as Though They Cannot Decide If They Are Afraid Of Me Or They Want To Kiss Me." " I Am Not Afraid Of You," Marco Says.

And Then He Tells Her Stories. Myths He Learned From His Instructor. Fantasies He Created Himself, Inspired By Bits And Pieces Of Others Read In Archaic Books With Crackling Spines.

I Keep Waiting For Things To Get Back Down To Whelming, But They Stay At Overwhelming.

The Circus Arrives Without Warning.

People See What They Wish To See. And In Most Cases, What They Are Told That They See.

Is Magic Not Enough To Live For?

That Man Has No Shadow.

Which Tent Is Your Favourite?" He Asks. "the Ice Garden," Celia Answers, Without Even Pausing To Consider. "why Is That?" Marco Asks. "because Of The Way It Feels," She Says. "it's Like Walking Into A Dream. As Though It Is Someplace Else Entirely And Not Simply Another Tent.

„i Forgive You For Stealing My Shawl.“ She Smiles As He Laughs. And Then She Vanishes. A Simple Trick Of Distracting His Attention Long Enough To Slip Out Through The Hall, Despite The Lingering Temptation To Stay.

...he Is Sure That The Bailey He Is Now Is Closer To The Bailey He Is Supposed To Be Than The Bailey He Had Been Before

I Draft Quickly And Then Revise, A Lot.

He Reads Histories And Mythologies And Fairy Tales, Wondering Why It Seems That Only Girls Are Ever Swept Away From Their Mundane Lives On Farms By Knights Or Princes Or Wolves. It Strikes Him As Unfair To Not Have The Same Fanciful Opportunity Himself. And He Is Not In The Position To Do Any Rescuing Of His Own.

Why Haven’t You Asked Me How I Do My Tricks?” Celia Asks, Once They Have Reached The Point Where She Is Certain He Is Not Simply Being Polite About The Matter. “because I Do Not Wish To Know,” He Says. “i Prefer To Remain Unenlightened, To Better Remain In The Dark.

The Night That Seemed Endless Hours Before Is Now Slipping Through Your Fingers, Ticking By As It Falls Into The Past And Pushes You Towards The Future.

I Like That "once Upon A Time" Quality, Where The Telling Of A Tale Has An Elevated Sense Of Story. There's A Whimsical Quality To It. Sometimes In Fairy Tales More Things Seem Possible, Even Though Often They're Real World Based.

Once Upon A Time

Trespassers Will Be Exsanguinated.

I Tried To Explain As Much As I Could," Poppet Says. "i Think I Made An Analogy About Cake." "well, That Must Have Worked," Widget Says. "who Doesn't Like A Good Cake Analogy?

This Is, In Part, Why There Is Less Magic In The World Today. Magic Is Secret And Secrets Are Magic, After All, And Years Upon Years Of Teaching And Sharing Magic And Worse. Writing It Down In Fancy Books That Get All Dusty With Age Has Lessened It, Removed Its Power Bit By Bit.

I Made A Wish On This Tree Years Ago," Marco Says. "what Did You Wish For?" Bailey Asks. Marco Leans Forward And Whispers In Bailey's Ear. "i Wished For Her.

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