He Was Free To Enjoy The Breathless

The Man That I Named The Giver Passed Along To The Boy Knowledge, History, Memories, Color, Pain, Laughter, Love, And Truth. Every Time You Place A Book In The Hands Of A Child, You Do The Same Thing. It Is Very Risky. But Each Time A Child Opens A Book, He Pushes Open The Gate That Separates Him From Elsewhere. It Gives Him Choices. It Gives Him Freedom. Those Are Magnificent, Wonderfully Unsafe Things. [from Her Newberry Award Acceptance Speech]

Memory Is The Happiness Of Being Alone.

It Is Very Risky. But Each Time A Child Opens A Book, He Pushes Open The Gate That Separates Him From Elsewhere.

The Life Where Nothing Was Ever Unexpected. Or Inconvenient. Or Unusual. The Life Without Colour, Pain Or Past.

Writing Is Hard Work, And Fun, And Requires You To Keep Your Backside In A Chair When You Would Sometimes Like To Put It Elsewhere. So The Only Wisdom Is The Advice To Keep At It, I Guess.