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Spellbound Under The Spanish Moss: A Southern Tale of Magic

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Connor Garrett

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“When parents, in the belief that they are doing the right thing, trample underfoot some ideal that lies latent in the heart of their child they cause, more often than not, to germinate in its place disillusionment, hatred, vice; it is fortunate indeed if the existence thus turned awry does not degrade into a life of crime, instead of one of calm content and universal respect.”

“Often a child's very gifts (his great intensity of feeling, depth of experience, curiosity, intelligence, quickness-and his ability to be critical) will confront his parents with conflicts that they have long sought to keep at bay by means of rules and regulations. These regulations must then be rescued at the cost of the child's development. All of this can lead to an apparently paradoxical situation when parents are proud of their gifted child and who admire him are forced by their own repression to reject, suppress, or even destroy what is best, because truest, in that child.”

“When you're young, you think of your parents with the simplest adjectives. As you get older, you add more adjectives and notice some of them contradict each other. He's tall. He's tall and strong. He's tall and strong and smart. He's tall and strong and smart but busy. He's tall and strong and smart but busy and aloof and judgemental. She's safe. She's safe and kind. She's safe and kind and caring. She's safe and kind and caring but sad. She's safe and kind and caring but sad and lonely and brittle. Maturity colonizes your adolescent mind, like an ultraviolet photograph of a vast cosmic nebula that turns out, on closer examination, to be a pointillist self-portrait.”

“Down by the lake Portia saw the pale green of her mother’s gown. She was with Papa, of course, and as Portia watched, he pulled her into his arms. They must be kissing, though she couldn’t see that far in the hazy light. Their bodies were so close together that they looked like one person. There was something about the way Papa held their mother tightly, as if she were very precious, that made Portia happy down to the bottom of her stomach. “What’s out there?” Emily said, coming up behind her. Portia pointed, even though ladies don’t point. “Ridiculous,” Emily said with a huff of disgust. “That’ll end in another baby, mark my words, Portia.” And it did.”

“And when I think my thinking rouses me to blame he who created me, And I gave peace to my children for they are in the bliss of the abyss Which surpasses all the pleasures of the world, And had they been born they would’ve endured misery”