...the Plural Of Elf Is Elves! What

Every Year, The Memories I Have Of My Father Become More Faint, Unclear, And Distant. Once They Were Vivid And True, Then They Became Like Photographs, And Now They Are More Like Photographs Of Photographs.

That He Liked To Think Of Himself As A Philosopher. That He Questioned All Things, Even The Most Simple, To The Extent That When Someone Passing Him On The Street Raised His Hat And Said, 'good Day,' Litvinoff Often Paused So Long To Weigh Evidence That By The Time He'd Settled On An Answer The Person Had Gone On His Way, Leaving Him Standing Alone.

One Thing I Am Never Going To Do When I Grow Up Is Fall In Love, Drop Out Of College, Learn To Subsist On Water And Air, Have A Species Named After Me, And Ruin My Life.

An Average Of Seventy-four Species Become Extinct Every Day, Which Was One Good Reason But Not The Only One To Hold Someone's Hand.

To Hike Out Alone In The Desert; To Sleep On The Valley Floor On A Night With No Moon, In The Pitch Black, Just Listening To The Boom Of Silence: You Can't Imagine What That's Like.