Open your heart. Someone will come. Someone will come for you. But first you must open your heart.
The world is dark, and light is precious.
Come closer, dear reader.
You must trust me.
I am telling you a story.
Come closer, dear reader.
You must trust me.
I am telling you a story.
There ain't no way you can hold onto something that wants to go, you understand? You can only love what you got while you got it.
There is nothing sweeter in this sad world than the sound of someone you love calling your name.
How will the world change if we do not question it?
You can't always judge people by the things they done. You got to judge them by what they are doing now.
"Once upon a time," he said out loud to the darkness. He said these words because they were the best, the most powerful words that he knew and just the saying of them comforted him.
Love, as we have already discussed, is a powerful, wonderful, ridiculous thing, capable of moving mountains.
This is the danger of loving: No matter how powerful you are, no matter how many kingdoms you rule, you cannot stop those you love from dying.
But, reader, there is no comfort in the word "farewell", even if you say it in French. "Farewell" is a word that, in any language, is full of sorrow. It is a word that promises absolutely nothing.
Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark.
It is a bad thing to have love and nowhere to put it.
"Once there was a princess who was very beautiful. She shone bright as the stars on a moonless night. But what difference did it make that she was beautiful? None. No difference."
"Why did it make no difference?" asked Abilene.
"Because," said Pellegrina, "She was a princess who loved no one and cared nothing for love, even though there were many who loved her."
"Why did it make no difference?" asked Abilene.
"Because," said Pellegrina, "She was a princess who loved no one and cared nothing for love, even though there were many who loved her."
Say it, reader. Say the word "quest" out loud. It is an extraordinary word, isn't it? So small and yet so full of wonder, so full of hope.
"Perhaps," said the man, "you would like to be lost with us. I have found it much more agreeable to be lost in the company of others."
I have been loved, Edward told the stars. So? said the stars. What difference does that make when you are all alone now?
Nothing would be easier without you, because you are everything, all of it- sprinkles, quarks, giant donuts, eggs sunny-side up- you are the ever-expanding universe to me.
Reader, do you think it is a terrible thing to hope when there is really no reason to hope at all? Or is it (as the soldier said about happiness) something that you might just as well do, since, in the end, it really makes no difference to anyone but you?
Magic is always impossible.... It begins with the impossible and ends with the impossible and is impossible in between. That is why it's magic.
Despereaux marveled at his own bravery.
He admired his own defiance.
And then, reader, he fainted.
He admired his own defiance.
And then, reader, he fainted.
Look at me, he said to her. His arms and legs jerked. Look at me. You got your wish. I have learned how to love. And it's a terrible thing. I'm broken. My heart is broken. Help me. The old woman turned and hobbled away. Come back, thought Edward. Fix me.
Reading should not be presented to children as a chore, a duty. It should be offered as a gift.
Hands down, the biggest thrill is to get a letter from a kid saying, I loved your book.
When I was starting to write, I was fascinated with 'Knuffle Bunny' by Mo Willems. I remember taking it home and typing it out, trying to figure out how it worked. It's just a classic, with dauntingly few words.
I have no talents. But I do have hope. And wonder. And love. Maybe those are talents?
I hate to cook and love to eat.
You have to learn how to write each book.
