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About quarter past five on the morning of April 18, 1906, the buildings of San Francisco started to shake.
Anyway, I’ve had quite a time of it this summer, and who knows what eases on down any road.
Can a spider write letters in a web?”
“Don’t let me get sappy on you, but when you get right down to it, every collection of letters is a magic spell, even if it’s a moronic proclamation by the Emperor.
He’d lived with his mother, with the Wicked Witch of the West (which might be the name of any mother, all mothers, he realized),
Several umbrellas had been left opened to dry, and had dried well enough by now that their fabric had given way, leaving only ribs and tatters.
The green rice otter was swaying back and forth, defying gravity, having a modest little carnival ride for itself.
If I’d known you would be coming this way I would have hid in a roasting pan somewhere with a gooseberry in my mouth and a twig of rosemary up my ass.”
What a world I’ve come up through, said Liir to himself. Oh, what a world, what a world.
Dorothy opened her mouth and began to sing about rainbow highways and raindrops and storms. Awful lot of rain in there, thought Rain.
She’d come back to Oz too late, to a man who got away by growing up faster than she could.
