School Didn't Work For Me. I Hated

I Can't Rightly Say Where Deciding To Write About The American Revolution Came From; I Had Bits And Pieces Of Information About The War And About The Country At That Time That I'd Collected Over The Years And, Of Course, I'm Comfortable In The Woods, So, Finally, It Just All Feel Into Place.

It Was As Though I Had Been Dying Of Thirst And The Librarian Had Handed Me A Five Gallon Bucket Of Water. I Drank And Drank. The Only Reason I Am Here And Not In Prison Is Because Of That Woman. I Was A Loser, But She Showed Me The Power Of Reading.

Patience, He Thought. So Much Of This Was Patience - Waiting, And Thinking And Doing Things Right. So Much Of All This, So Much Of All Living Was Patience And Thinking.

I Spent Uncounted Hours Sitting At The Bow Looking At The Water And The Sky, Studying Each Wave, Different From The Last, Seeing How It Caught The Light, The Air, The Wind; Watching Patterns, The Sweep Of It All, And Letting It Take Me. The Sea.

If Books Could Have More, Give More, Be More, Show More, They Would Still Need Readers Who Bring To Them Sound And Smell And Light And All The Rest That Can’t Be In Books. The Book Needs You.