Censorship Is The Child Of Fear And

Mr. Freeman Sighs. "no Imagination. What Are You Thirteen? Fourteen? You've Already Let Them Beat Your Creativity Out Of You!

Because I Am Still A Little Girl Who Believes In Santa And The Tooth Fairy And You.

We Turned Us Into Wintergirls, And When She Tried To Leave, I Pulled Her Back Into The Snow Because I Was Afraid To Be Alone.

This Camp Is A Forge For The Army; It's Testing Our Mettle. Instead Of Heat And Hammer, Our Trials Are Cold And Hunger. Question Is, What Are We Made Of?

It Is My First Morning Of High School. I Have Seven New Notebooks, A Skirt I Hate, And A Stomachache.