I Have A Painter's Memory. I Can

Words Are Nets Through Which All Truth Escapes.

My Father Brought Me A Box Of Books Once When I Was About Three And A Half Or Four. I Remember The Carton They Were In And The Covers With Illustrations By Newell C. Wyeth.

A Good Novel Begins With A Small Question And Ends With A Bigger One.

Teachers Inspire The Smallest Hearts To Grow Big Enough To Change The World.

The Truth Came Slowly Like A Story Told By People Interrupting Each Other.