Zilpha Keatley Snyder

"But they're not really paper dolls," Melanie said. "And I don't really play with them, not like moving them around and dressing them up and everything. They're just sort of a record of a game I play. I make up a family and then I find people who look like them in magazines and catalogues, just so I'll remember them better."

Know all the Questions, but not the Answers
Look for the Different, instead of the Same
Never Walk where there's room for Running
Don't do anything that can't be a Game

We all invite our own devils, and we must exorcise our own.

The answers aren't important really... What's important is- knowing all the questions.

Belief in mysteries, any manner of mysteries, is the only lasting luxury in life.

Belonging to a place isn't nearly as necessary as belonging to people you love and who love you and need you.

"None of my friends know how to play imagining games the way you do," Melanie said. "Some of them can do it a little bit but they mostly don't have any very good ideas. And a lot of them only like ball games or other things that are already made up. But I like imagining games better than anything."

Trick-or-treating is for candy and demonstrations are for things like Peace and Freedom. It's different.

The sixth grade began to find out that April had a way of making life interesting. For instance, when she raised her hand in class, her answer wasn't always what the teacher wanted, but it was almost certain to be fascinating. And when it came to guts — whether it was hanging by your heels from the highest bar, or putting a stinkbug on the principal's desk — you could count on April to do it first and best.

"More spooky and supernatural. Even though all the Egyptians were positive that somebody was fooling and had somehow managed to write the answer to Ken's question, there are times when being positive isn't quite enough." - Ken

Maybe everybody had wing buds, or at least the possibility of wings, only they just didn’t know it. Maybe people had really been meant to have wings.

Of a promise,” Raamo said. “I dreamed of a promise that has always been, and always will be.

Something’s going to happen!

Up and up he went, in a wide circle, his heart pounding with a crazy excitement that was more than half fright. The wind was wet against his face and his ears were full of the breathy whirr of feathers. It was a pretty frantic and frightening few minutes until at last he broke out above the fog into the clear open starlit sky.

Coming up so suddenly out of damp gray blindness, Harry was amazed to see how bright it was, and how clearly he could see. As he climbed higher into the starlit brightness the fog became only a rolling gray river beneath him. It poured in through the Golden Gate in great gray billows, spread out over the water of the bay, and spilled up onto the surrounding land. To the south, the tops of some of the tallest buildings looked like the last remains of a sunken city. As Harry turned in his circling flight, he caught a glimpse of the twin towers of the Golden Gate Bridge, barely showing above the foggy flood. Farther north, small patches of the hills of Marin could be seen through the fog breakers that dashed over their tops and almost seemed to splash down to the bay below.

Forest is and was and will be. Root and roof and all between. Pan-fruit feed me, nid-bough hold me, Peace and Joy be ever green.