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.

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

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

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

[A young adult novel] ends not with happily ever after, but at a new beginning, with the sense of a lot of life yet to be lived.

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

Anyone who thinks small towns are friendlier than big cities lives in a big city.