Occupation: Author Birth: October 31, 1932
Once a book is published, it no longer belongs to me. My creative task is done. The work now belongs to the creative mind of my readers. I had my tur….
You think it's so great to die and make everyone cry and carry on. Well it ain't..
I love revisions...We can't go back and revise our lives, but being allowed to go back and revise what we have written comes closest..
What a gift of grace to be able to take the chaos from within and from it create some semblance of order..
You don't have to fight dragons to write books. You just have to live deeply the life you've been given..
A library is a feast to which we are all invited..
A great novel is a kind of conversion experience. We come away from it changed..
Still, I kept writing. I had no guarantee that I would someday win awards for writing. Heavens, the only person during that time who seemed to think ….
You gotta know someone cares about you, or you just give up..
He may not have been born with guts, but he didn't have to die without them..
Shh" he said. "Look." "Where?" "Can't you see'um?" he whispered. "All the Terabithians standing on tiptoe to see you." "Me?" "Shh, yes. There's a rum….
It was up to him to pay back to the world in beauty and caring what Leslie had loaned him in vision and strength..
As I look back on what I have written, I can see that the very persons who have taken away my time are those who have given me something to say..
I think, she began quietly, I think we want... not just bread for our bellies. We want more than only bread. We want food for our hearts, our souls. ….
The name we give to something shapes our attitude toward it..
I love revision. Where else can spilled milk be turned into ice cream?.
We are trying to communicate that which lies in our deepest heart, which has no words, which can only be hinted at through the means of a story. And ….
A friend of mine who writes history books said to me that he thought that the two creatures most to be pitied were the spider and the novelist - thei….
We're alike, Jess would tell himself, me and Miss Edmunds . . . We don't belong at Lark Creek, Julia and me..
I cannot, will not, withhold from my young readers the harsh realities of human hunger and suffering and loss, but neither will I neglect to plant th….
The children's book world has given me wonderful friendships and an unbelievably rich life..