While We Were Working, We Were Writing

You Can Always Trust A Dog That Likes Peanut Butter.

All Of God's Creatures Have Names, Every Last One Of Them. Of That I Am Sure: Of That I Have No Doubt At All.

Do You Think Everybody Misses Somebody? Like I Miss My Mama?” “mmmm-hmmm,” Said Gloria. She Closed Her Eyes. “i Believe, Sometimes, That The Whole World Has An Aching Heart.

Perhaps," Said The Man, "you Would Like To Be Lost With Us. I Have Found It Much More Agreeable To Be Lost In The Company Of Others.

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.