There ain't no point in making soup unless others eat it. Soup needs another mouth to taste it, another heart to be warmed by it.
Kate DiCamilloSEASONS PASSED, FALL AND WINTER and spring and summer. Leaves blew in through the open door of Lucius Clarkeโs shop, and rain, and the green outrageous hopeful light of spring. People came and went, grandmothers and doll collectors and little girls with their mothers. Edward Tulane waited. The seasons turned into years. Edward Tulane waited. He repeated the old dollโs words over and over until they wore a smooth groove of hope in his brain: Someone will come; someone will come for you.
Kate DiCamillo