the reason God made February short a few days was because he knew that by the time people came to the end of it they would die if they had to stand one more blasted day.

Nothing smelled so good or danced so well as a birch fire.

It wasn't so much that he minded telling Leslie that he was afraid to go; it was that he minded being afraid. It was as though he had been made with a great piece missing - one of May Belle's puzzles with this huge gap where somebody's eye should have been. Lord, it would be better to be born without an arm than to go through life with no guts.

Kids often ask me if characters are real or made up - and I always tell them, 'I hope they're real but I made them up.'

It seems to me that there are two great enemies of peace - fear and selfishness.

The difference between writing a story and simply relating past events is that a story, in order to be acceptable, must have shape and meaning. It is the old idea that art is the bringing of order out of chaos.

I think, she began quietly, I think we want... not just bread for our bellies. We want more than only bread. We want food for our hearts, our souls. We want- how to say it? We want, you know- Puccini music.... we want for our beautiful children some beauty. She leaned over and kissed the curl on her finger. We want roses.