Heather Bache

“You live here and you know how crammed full every room is. My mother and Bella call it the Sander’s legacy. I call it the fifth circle of hell. When I lived here, I had to fight to hold a thought from the time I woke up in the morning until I fell into a fitful sleep. I ended up losing myself in projects I never finished or spacing out. Too much stuff leads to me being even more easily distracted. It’s like I’m standing in a field and there are dozens of fires all around me and I can’t decide which I should put out first. So, I had to learn how much I could deal with.”
― Jennifer L. Hart, Midlife Magic Mirror

“Isn’t that true of everyone? If we can trust a person will do what’s right in a tough situation, then we’ll always share a connection with that person.” Varden murmured, “For how can we trust, when we are unsure of a being’s capacity for kindness and decency? Once we become aware that one’s capacity for kindness is different to ours, is there any going back to what those two people might have been? Or do those two people merely trust each other in things up to that place where their decency and kindness differ? If so, is there any point in maintaining a trust with such a person or shall we abandon that relationship to seek out people with a closer capacity to ours?”
― Kelly St. Clare, First Ritual

“Your eyes have a unique coloring.” Archie tilts his head and examines them like an academic. “Eldritch eyes.” My brow creases. I don’t have a recollection of the word. “Eldritch?” “Aye, it means eerie, odd.” Archie leans back and sets up the checkers on the board. “Historically, it comes from the Middle English word elfriche meaning fairyland.”
― J.C. Yeamans, Secrets of a Midlife Witch

“certain type of person focuses their energies on correcting and criticising others. Avoid becoming one of them. They are usually individuals who possess limited authority but use it excessively. This can lead to unnecessary outrage over imperfectly sharpened pencils, inadequately washed coffee cups, or enquiries about who ignited the photocopier. They often end their days with only the power to proscribe how far their window is opened. Their entire world will then revolve around the window being opened either too much or too little. As for you, cease denying your own power, jump out of the window while you still can, and fly, my darling.  Fly high, fly free. Spread your wings for the pure joy of it. Finding your Inner Fire: How to Claim your True Self by Peggy Hwybon”
― Linzi Day, Seeing Red in Gretna Green