Things Seem More When You’re Little. They

Always In The Dream, It Seemed As If There Were A Destination: A Something--he Could Not Grasp What-that Lay Beyond The Place Where The Thickness Of Snow Brought The Sled To A Stop. He Was Left, Upon Awakening, With The Feeling That He Wanted, Even Somehow Needed, To Reach The Something That Waited In The Distance. The Feeling That It Was Good. That It Was Welcoming. That It Was Significant. But He Did Not Know How To Get There.

The Fact That I Lost My Son Permeates My Being.

But There's A Whole World Waiting, Still, And There Are Good Things In It.

If Everyting's The Same, Then There Aren't Any Choices! I Want To Wake Up In The Morning And Decide Things!" (jonas) "it's The Choosing That's Imortant, Isn't It?" The Giver Asked Him.

"i Liked The Feeling Of Love," [jonas] Confessed. He Glanced Nervously At The Speaker On The Wall, Reassuring Himself That No One Was Listening. "i Wish We Still Had That," He Whispered. "of Course," He Added Quickly, "i Do Understand That It Wouldn't Work Very Well. And That It's Much Better To Be Organized The Way We Are Now. I Can See That It Was A Dangerous Way To Live." [...] "still," He Said Slowly, Almost To Himself, "i Did Like The Light They Made. And The Warmth."