Words are a charmed mist. Fairy dust.
To speak, to write, to participate in language is to practice magic.
There are good magicians and bad ones.
What kind of magician am I, Unleashing my army of opinions on innocent ears?
The thing that scares me most is the possiblity that truth is lost forever--burried under a mountain of opinions.
Who remebers history? Who understands the present? Who dares dream about the future?
And a white wizard is a poet, battling the forces of black magic language. His words stir life and make things grow.
Spell it out/cast a spell. Language is magic.
1 comment:
elaine, your english is better than mine! your one of the good magicians.
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