This book is to be read in bed.
Even though we may all become extinct, we can still leave our footprint in the sand.
Too different from other juveniles on the market to warrant its selling.
The sun did not shine. It was too wet to play. So we sat in the house. All that cold, cold, wet day.
You're never too old, too wacky, too wild, to pick up a book and read to a child.
You can think about red. You can think about pink. You can think up a horse. Oh, the THINKS you can think!