Tell freedom I said hello.' 'If I happen to see it, I will.

Do you know what my father used to say?" I ask her. "He used to say that songs had a heart. A crescendo that can make all your blood rush from your head to your toes.

He says one word, nodding into the daylight. "Look." It's an astounding word. It's a gift.

A strange thing, words. Once they're said, it's hard to imagine they're untrue.

Give me time" "For you, always.

It was my fifth grade teacher who introduced the idea that writing could be more than a hobby for me.

Poor kid,' Jenna says, and rolls her eyes toward me for a moment. Then she returns to her book. 'She doesn't even understand what kind of place this is.