Quotes from Kathi Appelt

THE WORLD IS made of patterns. The rings of a tree. The raindrops on the dusty ground. The path the sun follows from morning to dusk.

Here, she curled up in a tight ball and waited, purred to her unborn babies. And the trees, the tall and kindly trees, watched over her while she slept, slept the whole night through.

It's a soft-sounding word, "never", but its velvety timbre can't hide its sharp edges.

For trees, stories never end, they simply fold one into another. Where one begins to close, another begins to open, so that none are ever finished, not really.

Of all the merfolk, Keeper loved Yemaya best. Goddess of the deep. Yemaya. If you gave her a gift, she might grant a wish.

It doesn't come up ever, and yet it comes up always.

The same wind that crept around the massive feet of the dinosaurs now swirls around the toes of baby koalas.

Trees are the arbiters of time, gathering up the hours and days and years, keeping them in their circular rings. They know that forgetting is not so easy. The blackjacks, the water oaks, the sumacs, they all had time to spare, and more.

Dogie's surfboards were like works of art. Splashed across their rainbow-colored decks were air-brushed paintings of waterfalls and sea dragons and a host of other fantastic creatures. Her favorite painting was a winged horse that looked like part horse and part comet, with its long tail blazing down the length of the board.

Magic happens, see. It's just like on those bumper stickers, the ones that say, 'Miracles Happen', or 'Jesus Happens'. I never really took those too seriously. I mean, they're bumper stickers. Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking. Miracles? Right. Jesus? Maybe. But magic?

We underestimate children and the people who work with them. I swear - so often, I tell people I am a children's author, and it's like they want to pat me on the head: 'Aw, isn't that sweet.'

At any given time, all of us have an empty spot: one that is calling for companionship, for example, or for justice, love, romance, or a belly laugh. When I sit down to write, I look to see what hole needs filling at that particular moment.

An entire nation, it seemed, was standing in one long breadline, desperate for even the barest essentials. It was a crisis of monumental proportions. It was known as the Great Depression.

Flat or uninteresting writing often signals something deeper that is being covered up.

Obsidian was caused by volcanoes, an eruption of steam and gas so furious that it melted the earth itself into this hard, shiny object.

There is nothing lonelier than a cat who has been loved, at least for a while, and then abandoned on the side of the road.

Telling stories and having them received is so important. That dialogue is everything. I tell my students all the time that what separates us as human beings is our ability to hold stories. Our narrative history. There is so much power in that. Storytelling is our human industry.

The moments that I feel the most imbued with a sense of awe are always the moments when I am outdoors. I can't help but feel a certain sense of wonder - I become almost filled with it.

I'm fully conscious of the fact that I wouldn't be the writer that I am without this place, without Vermont College.

One afternoon, I was playing this new video game, 'Blood and Guts.' I was controlling Gruesome Gus versus the Crimson Menace, and I had totally waxed the guy. It was this really complex sequence of moves, and I was so excited about conquering the game that I wanted to show it to someone. Unfortunately, the only one home at the time was Mom.