There is a movement happening, a quiet one. A low-profile, low-resolution revolution. Comprised of writers and dreamers, of guerrilla artists and thought-ninjas. Those with something to say. They communicate through text inscribed on true public spaces, rather than blogs and… — Erin Morgenstern Copy Share Image
They are enthusiasts, devotees. Addicts. Something about the circus stirs their souls, and they ache for it when it is absent. They seek each… — Erin Morgenstern Copy Share Image
“The Burgess sisters arrive together. Tara and Lainie do a little bit of everything. Sometimes dancers, sometimes actresses. Once they were librarians, but that… — Erin Morgenstern Copy Share Image
“Bedtime stories Eventide Rhapsodies Anthologies of Memory Please enter cautiously and feel free to open what is closed” — Erin Morgenstern Copy Share Image
“When all of this is over, no matter which one of us wins, I will not let you go so easily. Agreed?” — Erin Morgenstern Copy Share Image
“Even the ground beneath his feet feels unsatisfying to his boots.” — Erin Morgenstern Copy Share Image
“Why haven’t you asked me how I do my tricks?” Celia asks, once they have reached the point where she is certain he is… — Erin Morgenstern Copy Share Image
I binge write. I think it's because I started seriously writing by participating in National Novel Writing Month, an online-based challenge to write 50,000… — Erin Morgenstern Copy Share Image
I made a wish on this tree years ago," Marco says. "What did you wish for?" Bailey asks. Marco leans forward and whispers in… — Erin Morgenstern Copy Share Image
“He reads histories and mythologies and fairy tales, wondering why it seems that only girls are ever swept away from their mundane lives on… — Erin Morgenstern Copy Share Image
“Behind him, the sheep, left to their own devices, decide to wander through the open gate into the field beyond.” — Erin Morgenstern Copy Share Image
