The gardener knew this to be true. But she remembered someone from long ago who said, It had been startling and disappointing to me to find out that story books had been written by people, that books were not natural wonders, coming up of themselves like grass.
"I want to believe such wonder exists," the gardener told the magician. "That stories (the ones demanding to be told) indeed come up like the grass."
Then after a long pause, the gardener asked, "How much light?"
As much as you can hold in your heart.
"And how much water?"
The magician smiled. Enough.
"But how do I know how much is enough?"
Seeing the gardener's confusion, the magician added, It's an ancient word, from an ancient culture.
"What does it mean?"
The amount of water that can be held in one hand.