The Witches of Moonshyne Manor

Behold my field of fucks. Lay thine eyes upon it, and thou shalt see that it is barren.

It’s such a pity that intellectualizing anxiety doesn’t actually do anything to diminish it.

You get two families. The one you’re bonded to by blood ties and the one you’re bonded to by a force far greater than blood. Choice is a mighty powerful thing.

Age's sole purpose is to gift us more years in which to experience the minefield that is living. Along with that, it grants us the perspective to know that by the end of it all, it doesn't matter a damn whit that we no longer look like our younger selves. Because here's the thing we are no longer those supple, youthful, foolish people. We're that much older and infinitely wiser, war-weary and battle-scarred. We've become survivors and warriors, and as Ruby will tell you, you should always, always look the part.

Choice is a mighty powerful thing, Ivy. When the time comes, choose your sisters wisely.

She thinks of how sometimes the most sacred conversations we’ll ever have are the ones that require no words, and how there are very few people in our lives who we’ll ever speak that silent language with.

Age’s sole purpose is to gift us more years in which to experience the minefield that is living. Along with that, it grants us the perspective to know that by the end of it all, it doesn’t matter a damn whit that we no longer look like our younger selves.

It seemed for those whose souls overflowed with an abundance of maternal instincts there would always be something or someone in need of nurturing.

Knowing a person’s story doesn’t mean you have the right to tell it. And sometimes the right to hear it has to be earned.

Bianca Marais cohosts the popular podcast The Shit No One Tells You About Writing, which is aimed at emerging writers. She teaches creative writing through the podcast and was named the winner of the Excellence in Teaching Award for Creative Writing at the University of Toronto’s School of Continuing Studies in 2021. She is the author of two novels, Hum If You Don’t Know the Words and If You Want to Make God Laugh, as well as the Audible Original The Prynne Viper. She lives in Toronto with her husband and fur babies.

That’s the thing about a death that silently creeps up on you, hunting you through the long grass, not making its presence known until it pounces, claws unsheathed. You don’t know it’s coming. And so you think you have all the time in the world to shriek and dance, to laugh and eat, to drink and swim and make love.

Aging gracefully is a bore. Aging disgracefully is something to be proud of.

Worry is like a rocking chair, Ivy tells herself for the umpteenth time that week. It gives you something to do, but it doesn’t get you anywhere.