For in every adult there dwells the child that was, and in every child there lies the adult that will be.
Without a human voice to read them aloud, or a pair of wide eyes following them by flashlight beneath a blanket, they had no real existence in our world. They were like seeds in the beak of a bird, waiting to fall to earth, or the notes of a song laid out on a sheet, yearning for an instrument to bring their music into being.
...it was imaginative people who tended to lie. Lying required making stuff up, and only imaginative people were good at that.
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