That Is Surely The Truth, At Least

Farewell” Is Not The Word That You Would Like To Hear From Your Mother As You Are Being Led To The Dungeon By 2 Oversize Mice In Black Hoods. Words That You Would Like To Hear Are “take Me Instead, I Will Go To The Dungeon In My Sons Place.” There Is A Great Deal Of Comfort In Those Words.

I Have Learned How To Love. And It's A Terrible Thing. I'm Broken. My Heart Is Broken. Help Me.

Seasons Passed, Fall And Winter And Spring And Summer. Leaves Blew In Through The Open Door Of Lucius Clarke’s Shop, And Rain, And The Green Outrageous Hopeful Light Of Spring. People Came And Went, Grandmothers And Doll Collectors And Little Girls With Their Mothers. Edward Tulane Waited. The Seasons Turned Into Years. Edward Tulane Waited. He Repeated The Old Doll’s Words Over And Over Until They Wore A Smooth Groove Of Hope In His Brain: Someone Will Come; Someone Will Come For You.

There's A Buddhist Precept That The Only Thing You Deserve Is The Chance To Do The Work, And I've Been Given The Chance To Do The Work.

Stories Are Light. Light Is Precious In A World So Dark. Begin At The Beginning. Tell Gregory A Story. Make Some Light.