Katsa and Po were trying to drown each other and, judging from their hoots of laughter, enjoying it immensely.

A book that bores me to tears is a book that neglects character building and quality of prose.

How acutely sometimes the presence or absence of people mattered

I meditate, and when I do, Prince Harry appears in my subconscious and meditates with me. It's a little strange but I don't think there's anything I can do about it. Sometimes he's not the only one; the other day it was me, Prince Harry, the Dalai Lama, Mr. Rogers, Coco the gorilla, and George Clooney. We were all floating above the earth looking down at the continents as they passed. George Clooney suggested I visit Providence, Rhode Island. The Dalai Lama sighed deeply and said he'd like to visit Tibet. Poor Dalai Lama.

Katsa watched the long grass moving around them. The wind pushed it, attacked it, struck it in one place and then another. It rose and fell and rose again. It flowed, like water.

When Brocker arrived he took her hands and held them to his face and cried into them.

Your horse is named Small. Yes. Mine is named Big. -Fire and Brigan