The Slow Regard of Silent Things

She knew better than anyone, it was worth doing things the proper way.

It was just as Master Mandrag always said: nine tenths of chemistry was waiting.

But for half a minute she wished it was a different sort of day, even though she knew that nothing good could come from wanting at the world.

It was better to be gentle and polite. It was the worst sort of selfishness to force yourself upon the world.

It was just as Mandrag said: Nine tenths of alchemy was chemistry. And nine tenths of chemistry was waiting.

Answers were always important, but they were seldom easy.

Cruelty never helped the turning of the world.

They made a medley without melding or meddling.

Oh it seemed sensible. Oh yes. Certainly. But she knew what seeming was worth in the end, didn’t she?

It exasperated her, but she knew better than to force the world to bend to her desire.

She indulged herself from time to time. It helped remind her she was truly free.

But now she knew much more than that. So much of what she’d thought was truth before was merely tricks. No more than clever ways of speaking to the world. They were a bargaining. A plea. A call. A cry.

But underneath, there was a secret deep within the hidden heart of things.

But no. There is a difference between the truth and what we wish were true.