There was a little white statue there. Now I'm not artistic. I saw it was of a fellow with no clothes on - I always wonder why it's Art to take your … - Diana Wynne Jones

Things we are accustomed to regard as myth or fairy story are very much present in people’s lives. Nice people behave like wicked stepmothers. Every day.

But she's too big! the anguished man said, still glaring at Vivian. This girl is not the right size! … She was six when she went away, Father, Jonathan said. He did not seem in the least alarmed. That was nearly six years ago. Think how much I've changed since then. So you have, said this alarming man, turning his glare on Jonathan as if he did not think the change was for the better. I see, he said. She grew.

Mitt did not quite forget his perfect land. He remembered it, though a little fuzzily, next time the wind dropped, but he did not set off to look for it again. It was plain to him that soldiers only brought you back again if you went. It made him sad. When an inkling of it came to him in silence, or in scents, or, later, if the wind hummed a certain note, or a storm came shouting in from the sea and he caught the same note in the midst of its noise, he thought of his lost perfect place and felt for a moment as if his heart would break.