The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches

Niceness is all about what we do when other people are looking. Kindness, on the other hand, runs deep. Kindness is what happens when no one’s looking.

It’s not always enough to go looking for the place we belong. Sometimes we need to make that place.

It’s a leap of faith to love people and let yourself be loved. It’s closing your eyes, stepping off a ledge into nothing, and trusting that you’ll fly rather than fall. I can’t step off the ledge for you. It’s something only you can do.

I can’t transform the world, Jamie. The world’s too big and too messy and too stubborn.” “Who said anything about transforming the world?” He shrugged. “What about just making it a little better? And then a little better? And then a little more, until, one day, maybe long after we’re gone, it has transformed?

Alone is how—” “—is how we survive, yes, you’ve said. I can’t say whether that’s true or not, but one thing I do know is that alone is not how we live.

Danger rarely wore a monstrous face and a wielded a pitchfork. No, danger came most often in the form of nice people whose niceness only went so deep, who saved their niceness for people exactly like them, who believed they were more deserving of power and respect than anyone who was a little bit different.

Trust is earned." "It is. But that’s only possible if someone’s willing to give you a chance.

Lillian sounds like she’s more nice than she is kind. Does that make sense? Niceness is good manners, and stopping to give someone directions, and smiling at the overworked cashier at the supermarket. These are all good things, but they have nothing to do with what’s underneath. Niceness is all about what we do when other people are looking. Kindness, on the other hand, runs deep. Kindness is what happens when no one’s looking.

That was some excellent Mary Poppins shit right there.

Mika looked away. “I’m afraid I’ll never leave a mark on anybody.” It was quiet for so long that Mika wished she could take the too-reckless, too-honest words back, but then she heard him, rough and uneven and so quiet she almost missed it: “It’s a little late for that, I’m afraid.

Mika has been so deeply hurt that she has taught herself to run before she can lay down roots, but the thing you have to remember, Jamie, is that when someone leaves, all you can do is leave a window open for them so that one day, if they choose, they can come back.

We’re part of the earth below us and the sky above us. Our veins echo the patterns of rivers and roots. There’s sunlight and moonlight in our bones.

Over the years, Mika had embraced all the things that made her different and had discovered that she liked herself very much. But what was that worth without human connection? How was it possible to live, truly live, without the companionship of other people, without a family formed in any of the thousands of ways families could be formed?

But it was more than that. It was peace, the kind Mika was beginning to see she had never known. She hadn’t understood how exhausting and heartbreaking it had been to hide such a big part of herself all these years, to reshape and contort herself into something more acceptable. She hadn’t realised just how heavy her mask had been until she’d discovered what it was to live without it.

You’re the only person I know who says the word nice like it’s a bad thing.” “It’s not a bad thing at all, except when it’s all there is. A lot of nice people stop being nice when they don’t get exactly what they want.

We’ve talked about this,” said Jamie mildly. “Murder can’t be your first choice every time you don’t like something.

Maybe some kinds of trauma can’t be revisited — and some need to be.

I’m afraid.” “Of what?” “Of the heartbreak when I fail,” she said simply. “Of rejection. Of wanting too much. Of discovering again and again that I’m unlovable. All those nannies came and went, and not one of them loved me. And, thanks to Primrose, not one of them remembers me, either. People are usually like the sea, a constant, unerasable part of something bigger, but I’m more like a single wave that washes over the shore, ebbs away, and doesn’t leave a trace behind.” He swallowed, his knuckles almost white on the wheel. Mika looked away. “I’m afraid I’ll never leave a mark on anybody.” It was quiet for so long that Mika wished she could take the too-reckless, too-honest words back, but then she heard him, rough and uneven and so quiet she almost missed it: “It’s a little late for that, I’m afraid.

That is because I believe what you put in your body is your business, and that,” she added, raising her teacup to her lips, “includes penises.

Witchcore,” Hilda said, nodding wisely. “Not quite as popular as cottagecore or fairycore, but it’s up there.

I want you, Mika. There are a million things that make you you, like your laugh, and the fact that you care about Primrose in spite of everything, and the colour of your skin, and the fact that when you decided you needed a mask to fit into the world, you chose one that was sunny instead of slowly like mine.

Her eyes very round, seven-year-old Altamira said, with perfect gravity, “That was some excellent Mary Poppins shit right there.

Why are you here, Jamie?" "I'm leaving a window open." "Am I supposed to understand what that means?" ... "We wanted you to know, we want you to stay. Not just for now. Always. So we're leaving a window open so that if you ever want to come home, you'll know you'll always be wanted.

She hadn’t realised just how heavy her mask had been until she’d discovered what it was to live without it.

Lovely afternoon, isn’t it?” she said, abiding by that ancient and most sacred British law of only ever starting a conversation with a comment on the weather.

You’d be surprised! I swear, it was like the instant I turned thirty, my body said, That’s it, I’m done putting up with your nonsense. Look after me properly or I’m going to break down like an old engine. I’ve been taking the threat very seriously.

The best possible life isn't always the one where you're safest