Quotes from Patricia MacLachlan

I will come by train. I will wear a yellow bonnet. I am plain and tall.

What is perfect? Journey, a thing doesn't have to be perfect to be fine. That goes for a picture. That goes for life....Things can be good enough.

Where else," I will say, "does an old turtle crossing the path Make all the difference in the world?

I sing the songs I sang to you every night. I sing them so I will remember you, hoping that you will remember me too, even though I am here, and you are there.

Poets and children," said Sylvan. "We are the same really. When you can't find a poet, find a child. Remember that.

Things happen, Jacob," I heard Sarah say. "The rope broke. I could have died." "Don't, Sarah," said Papa. "You could have lost me, Jacob," said Sarah. "And that's the way life is. Something happens . . . one little moment in time. If you're lucky, you have a chance to make things better. You have that chance here. Don't let it pass.

Byrd: It is important because we are giving her something to take away with her when she goes. Lalo: What will she take with her? Byrd: Us. Sophie: And what will we have when she's gone? Byrd looked at Sophie and shook her head because she couldn't speak

This is important to writing. . . that is, it is important to my own writing. This. . . is landscape! Mine. This dirt came from the prairie where I was a child. I played in it, dug in it, planted in it, and walked over it. It is where I began. And all my writing begins with a landscape such as this. A place.

Sometimes you think you know more than you really do—people, events, things that are true and things that are not. Sometimes you think you know yourself. But then, surprise, it is someone else who shows you what is really there, like the truth a photograph shows.

more perfect than the moon

There is a joy...in creating surprising insight into a character. The characters in my books become, for me, good friends, extended family members, or the brothers and sisters I never had. Books affect lives, especially children's lives, because children have a genuine belief in the truth of stories, the ultimate gift for the writer. It's a shared gift—from writer to reader and back again.

What happened last night was my fault," I said. "I put up the rope, Sarah. I must have done it wrong." "Fault?" said Sarah. "Oh, Caleb, I want you to listen to me. There comes a time when fault doesn't matter. Things happen. And we can't blame ourselves--or someone else--forever." I heard a noise behind me, and saw Papa standing there, Cassie beside him. I knew he had heard Sarah's words.

Dogs speak words, but only poets and children Hear.

My brother William is a fisherman, and he tells me that when he is in the middle of a fog-bound sea the water is a color for which there is no name.

Outlines are silly. Once you write the outline, there's no reason to write the story. You write to participate . . . to find out what is going to happen!