“I will start out this evening with an assertion: fantasy is a place where it rains.”

“Fantasy is a place where it rains.”

“In the dark that followed - Lucy said; "where I was born, the trees were always in the sun. And I left that place because it was intolerant of rain. Now, we are here in a place where there are no trees and there is only rain. And I intend to leave this place - because it is intolerant of light. Somewhere - there must be somewhere where darkness and light are reconciled. So I am starting a rumour, here and now, of yet another world. I don't know when it will present itself - I don't know where it will be. But - as with all those other worlds now past when it is ready, I intend to go there.”

“Still, the vivid green of the grass-where the grass is actually managing to assert itself through the dirt-seems out of place.This seems like a place where the sun should never shine: a place on the edge, at the limit, a place completely removed from time and happiness and life.”

“Boredom reigns on all levels. The rain is a welcome change. I have seen the pond swell and the creek surge. I press my palm against the glass, imagining the drops on my skin, imagining where they started out, where they will go, feeling them like a river, rushing, combining, becoming something greater than how they started out.”

“Humans need fantasy to be human. To be the place where the falling angel meets the rising ape.”