Is Magic Not Enough To Live For?

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.

Marco Knows He Does Not Have The Time To Push Her Away, So He Pulls Her Close, Burying His Face In Her Hair, His Bowler Hat Torn From His Head By The Wind...."trust Me," Celia Whispers In His Ear, And He Stops Fighting It, Forgetting Everything But Her.

At The Center, Where A Cuckoo Bird Would Live In A More Traditional Timepiece, Is The Juggler. Dressed In Harlequin Style With A Grey Mask, He Juggles Shiny Silver Balls That Correspond To Each Hour. As The Clock Chimes, Another Ball Joins The Rest Until At Midnight He Juggles Twelve Balls In A Complex Pattern. After Midnight The Clock Begins Once More To Fold In Upon Itself. The Face Lightens And The Clouds Return. The Number Of Juggled Balls Decreases Until The Juggler Himself Vanishes. By Noon It Is A Clock Again, And No Longer A Dream.

...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

Have You Tried The Cinnamon Things?" Poppet Asks. "they're Rather New. What Are They Called, Widge?" "fantastically Delicious Cinnamon Things?