“Wine is bottled poetry, he thinks.”

“By the time he reaches the farm, 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 the day before. He may not be certain what any of it means, but for now he does not think that it much matters.”

“You look like a ghost," Bailey says. He can think of no better way to describe it. "You appear the same way to me, so which of us is real?”

“Wufju fay foo im?” he asks, with his mouth mostly full. “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?”

“Look around you, he says, waving a hand at the surrounding tables. Not a one of them even has an inkling of the things that are possible in this world, and what's worse is that none of them would listen if you attempted to enlighten them. They want to believe that magic is nothing but clever deception, because to think it real would keep them up at night, afraid of their own existence.”

“I think looking forward will be better than looking back.”

“I don't think there's anything wrong being a dreamer.”