Throughout the day, Stargirl had been dropping money. She was the Johnny Appleseed of loose change: a penny here, a nickel there. Tossed to the sidewalk, laid on a shelf or bench. Even quarters. "I hate change," she said. "It's so . . . jangly." "Do you realize how much you must throw away in a year?" I said. "Did you ever see a little kid's face when he spots a penny on a sidewalk?"

So," he said, "we ourselves will be the candle flames." He put his hands on his chest. "Feel your hearts, how warm they are.

Write what you care about. If you do that, you stand the best chance of doing your best writing.

His smile was so wide he’d have had to break it into sections to fit it through a doorway

How much better might human communication be if words were as precious as diamonds? If each of us were allotted only 100 words per day?

Events become feelings, feelings become events

Be very, very careful not to let the facts get mixed up with the truth.