Today my winged horse is coming and I am carrying you off to the moon and on the moon we will eat rose petals.

I was pretending that I did not speak their language; on the moon we spoke a soft, liquid tongue, and sang in the starlight, looking down on the dead dried world.

Now, I have nothing against the public school system as it is presently organized, once you allow the humor of its basic assumption about how it is possible to teach things to children.

I can't help it when people are frightened," says Merricat. "I always want to frighten them more.

I am like a small creature swallowed whole by a monster, she thought, and the monster feels my tiny little movements inside.

February, when the days of winter seem endless and no amount of wistful recollecting can bring back any air of summer.

Life Among the Savages is a disrespectful memoir of my children.