“How can she create with all your negative energy?""Yeah, man. You're bringing us down.""This is about as low as it gets," Ariel said. "Where did you get those ridiculous black berets?"Moth adjusted his recently donned beatnik attire. "This is what the hip cats wear , daddy-o.""Can you dig it?" Cobweb stroked a few wisps of fake chin hair, while the others nodded and snapped their fingers.”

“You're a little tall to play Ariel." said Moth."And you have way too many muscles," said Mustardseed."But you might be able to pull it off," Cobweb said, "if you can look really constipated.”

“Ariel contributed nothing to the speculation, instead crossing his arms one over the other. The action recalled his butterfly familiars from the skies, and they flocked to him with eager wing beats."Bats!" Moth flailed at the air. "Vampire bats!""Don't be ridiculous," Peaseblossom said with a sniff. "Vampire bats don't sparkle.”

“About the time he threatened her nose with his finger, Peaseblossom lost her grip on the situation with the boys. The door crashed open, and three irate fairies launched themselves at the Stage Manager. Cobweb and Moth pelted him with sequins while Mustardseed rammed beads into his ears."Dance!" they commanded, and dance he did, hopping with impotent anger and pain from one foot to the other as he batted his meaty hands at them.”

“Mustardseed grinned at Bertie. "I was never any good at geometry, but you’re stuck in a love triangle, aren’t you?""Shut up," she ordered even as Moth asked, "But what if there were four of them?""That’s a love rectangle, and five people would be a love pentagon.""And what are six people in love?" Cobweb demanded.Mustardseed thought it over a moment. "Manslaughter, I suppose.”

“Seek out the company of those who will never ask you to jump," the earth advised.Bertie remembered the rush of feathers as she soared above the audience. "I can catch myself.""Of those whose love will never fill your lungs with water-" the earth argued."But it did not kill me.""there should be more to love," said the earth, "than 'it did not kill me.' More than 'I survived it.”

“You didn't just write the play, Bertie," Peaseblossom said suddenly. "You ordered the Players about, shouted, and threw an artistic hissy fit. Do you know what that makes you?" "A temperamental fusspot?" Mustardseed guessed. "Crazier than a bag full of crazy?" Moth said. "Close," Peaseblossom said. "It makes her a Director.”