Humor is anger that was sent to finishing school.

We write by the light of every story we have ever read.

Grandma, how old is she?" "Oh I don't know." Grandma said. "You'd have to cut off her head and count the rings in her neck.

I caught a glimpse of happiness, and saw it was a bird on a branch, fixing to take wing.

Never trust an ugly woman. She's got a grudge against the world,' said Grandma who was no oil painting herself.

We don't write what we know. We write what we wonder about.

Only the nonreader fears books.