And The Last Thought He Had That

She Was Brilliant And Joyous And She Believed- Probably Correctly- That Libraries Contain The Answers To All Things, To Everything, And That If You Can't Find The Information You Seek In The Library, Then Such Information Probably Doesn't Exist In This Or Any Parallel Universe Now Or Ever To Be Known. She Was Thoughtful And Kind And She Always Believed The Best Of Everybody. She Was, Above All Else, A Master Librarian And She Knew Where To Find Any Book On Any Subject In The Shortest Possible Time. And She Was Wonderfully Unhinged.

The Essence Of War Is Insanity. Destruction, Death, Women Widowed, Children Orphaned, Lands Plundered, Property Destroyed, Lives Decimated - It's All Bad.

School Didn't Work For Me. I Hated It.

And The Last Thought He Had That Morning As He Closed His Eyes Was: I Hope The Tornado Hit The Moose.

Words Are Alive--when I've Found A Story That I Love, I Read It Again And Again, Like Playing A Favorite Song Over And Over. Reading Isn't Passive--i Enter The Story With The Characters, Breathe Their Air, Feel Their Frustrations, Scream At Them To Stop When They're About To Do Something Stupid, Cry With Them, Laugh With Them. Reading For Me, Is Spending Time With A Friend. A Book Is A Friend. You Can Never Have Too Many.