It Meant That She Belonged Some Place.

Because The Child Must Have A Valuable Thing Which Is Called Imagination. The Child Must Have A Secret World In Which Live Things That Never Were. It Is Necessary That She Believe. She Must Start Out Believing In Things Not Of This World. Then When The World Becomes Too Ugly For Living In, The Child Can Reach Back And Live In Her Imagination.

'dear God,' She Prayed, 'let Me Be Something Every Minute Of Every Hour Of My Life.'

I Hate All Those Flirty-birty Games That Women Make Up. Life's Too Short. If You Ever Find A Man You Love, Don't Waste Time Hanging Your Head And Simpering. Go Right Up To Him And Say, 'i Love You. How About Getting Married?

But This Tree In The Yard-this Tree That Men Chopped Down...this Tree That They Built A Bonfire Around, Trying To Burn Up It's Stump-this Tree Lived! It Lived! And Nothing Could Destroy It.

A Lie Was Something You Told Because You Were Mean Or A Coward. A Story Was Something You Made Up Out Of Something That Might Have Happened. Only You Didn't Tell It Like It Was, You Told It Like You Thought It Should Have Been.