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

I'm so far gone that I'm telling the truth. It sounds like a foreign language.

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.

The years went by, and Mary Alice and I grew up, Slower than we wanted to, faster than we realized.

But put two librarians' heads together, and mountains move.

Writing is communication, not self-expression. Nobody in this world wants to read your diary except your mother.

Read to your children Twenty minutes a day; You have the time, And so do they. Read while the laundry is in the machine; Read while the dinner cooks; Tuck a child in the crook of your arm And reach for the library books. Hide the remote, Let the computer games cool, For one day your children will be off to school; Remedial? Gifted? You have the choice; Let them hear their first tales In the sound of your voice. Read in the morning; Read over noon; Read by the light of Goodnight Moon. Turn the pages together, Sitting close as you'll fit, Till a small voice beside you says, "Hey, don't quit.