To write and not tell the truth? That would be death for any writer. But more, it would be death to the imagination. And if the imagination dies, what would happen to the souls of children?

To write and not tell the truth? That would be death for any writer. But more, it would be death to the imagination. And if the imagination dies, what would happen to the souls of children?

... the object of learning was not to build a better mousetrap but to ask a better question.

But there are times when a tree can no longer withstand the pain inflicted on it, and the wind will take pity on that tree and topple it over in a mighty storm. All the other trees who witnessed the evil look down upon the fallen tree with envy. They pray for the day when a wind will end their suffering. I pray for the day when God will end mine.

It ain't how long you know somebody that means anything. It's what that person mean to you in your heart.

Often, the human animal dresses terror in rage, and expresses both in a way unlike either.

The young accept the extraordinary as normal because they do not compare their lives with those of others when everyone is like them.