I'm At The Mercy Of Whatever Character

What Would Make Me Happiest Is If Kids Read These Books [bink & Gollie] And Think: There Is So Much To Love In The World; And Words Are So Much Fun.

Normally, Edward Would Have Found Intrusive, Clingy Behavior Of This Sort Very Annoying, But There Was Something About Sarah Ruth. He Wanted To Take Care Of Her. He Wanted To Protect Her. He Wanted To Do More For Her. (page 135)

It Is Truly Excellent To Have Someone Believe In You And Your Ability To Write. But I Think It Is Just As Helpful To Have People Who Don't Believe In You, People Who Mock You, People Who Doubt You, People Who Enrage You. Fortunately, There Is Never A Shortage Of This Type Of Person In The World ... Write For Yourself. Write For The Story. And Write, Also, For All Of The People Who Doubt You. Write For All Those People Who Are Not Brave Enough To Do This Grand And Wondrous Thing Themselves. Let Them Motivate You.

At The Thought Of Being Eaten By Rats, Despereaux Forgot About Being Brave. He Forgot About Not Being A Disappointment. He Felt Himself Heading Into Another Faint. But His Mother, Who Had An Excellent Sense Of Dramatic Timing, Beat Him To It; She Executed A Beautiful, Flawless Swoon, Landing Right At Despereaux's Feet.

During The Night, While Bull And Lucy Slept, Edward, With Ever-open Eyes, Stared Up At The Constellations. He Said Their Names, And Then He Said The Names Of The People Who Loved Him. He Started With Abilene, And Then Went On To Nellie And Lawrence And From There To Bull And Lucy, And Then He Ended Again With Abilene: Abilene, Nellie, Lawrence, Bull, Lucy, Abilene. See? Edward Told Pellegrina. I Am Not Like The Princess. I Know About Love.