Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand
I think these lines from W. B. Yeats, taken from his long poem, The Stolen Child, capture one of the most beautiful reasons why authors throughout the ages have written faerie tales. That deep-rooted desire to catch at something bigger, broader, more terrifying and more beautiful, than the natural world can hold. That longing for the Other, that nameless Other, that finds its breath in the unhindered imagination.
Yeats is one of my favorite poets, but I had not read this poem until just yesterday. I love discovering those who can say in a few lines what I try to say in whole novels! Yeats, my dear, you humble and move me.