Still, I kept writing. I had no guarantee that I would someday win awards for writing. Heavens, the only person during that time who seemed to think I could write something worth publishing was my loyal husband. But I always remembered the professor from graduate school who urged me to write and who recommended me for that first writing assignment in 1964. When I protested to Sara Little that I didn't want to add another mediocre writer to the world, she gently reminded me that if I didn't dare mediocrity, I would never write anything at all.

Lord, let me heed the angels you put in my path.

...those of us who write for children are called, not to do something to a child, but be someone for a child.

February is just plain malicious. It knows your defenses are down.

I was behaving, just like I promised, but fate intervened.

Sitting in cold wet britches for an hour was no fun even in a magic kingdom.

Crazy people who are judged to be harmless are allowed an enormous amount of freedom ordinary people are denied.