When I was a child, I would stand in the deep, old forest and feel the magic of life weaving and wishing itself awake all around me. I read fairy tales and knew they were real in a special way that had nothing to do with scientific reality. Every night, I sat a little lost in a huge, half-empty house and listened to heaven singing the silence.
Maybe that is why I always revered writers just the same as doctors and presidents. They ... some of them, and especially the long-ago ones who wrote for children ... know too about the enchantment, and have all the right words to share it.