Quotes from Cynthia Leitich Smith

You ate the police?! I exclaimed.

I like it," I said. "The material's so heavy, though. I may turn into a sweat monster.

Each second neared our last. We danced. "Kieren . . ." "Shhh . . ." We danced. "I'll be okay." Was that me lying? Or him? We danced. "Close your eyes," he whispered, brushing his lips against mine. "Know that I'm missing you already and that you'll always be in my prayers." When I opened my eyes, I stood alone in the middle of the dance floor.

Do you believe in God?' 'I believe in kissing you.

There's always music," he replied, "if you listen carefully enough.

She seems to think being cryptic is some kind of substitute for having a decent personality.

Love isn't only passion and joy. It's also sacrifice.

A secret is a burden. It's exhausting, a lie.

She may not need to breathe, but she's like air to me.

Ginny looks so small, huddled on the red carpet. We've known each other only a couple of days, but she's brought sunshine into my life and made me feel like I belong in the glow. It's not love. It's the hope of love. But it's the closest I've come to it since I was ten years old. If Ginny wants me, how can I be a monster?

It was only one kiss. It wasn't a deep kiss, a French kiss, the kind of kiss that redefines a teen life. It was pepperoni, snowflakes, spit, and rodeo dust. Crazy, like dancing and soaring and walking to a new home. Sweeter because it didn't taste like good-bye.

Grampa pulled off his lucky hat and sank into the recliner. Before long, he was snoring like a rusty hymn. 'Zzzzzz . . .' Uncle Leonard tossed Ray over one shoulder and hauled him into the kitchen, where the smell of frying bacon filled the air. 'Any fish today?" Aunt Wilhelmina asked. 'Yes, ma'am," Ray said, 'but that's not all we caught.' Uncle Leonard sat Ray down. 'What else was there?" 'Something bigger' is all that Ray would say.

Four kids in T-shirts and jeans jam on a powwow stage. They're grinning, bouncing, fully engaged with their music, each other, and the relaxed crowd. I'm splitting fry bread with a cousin as we cheer on the band, and across the tent, a young girl reading a paperback catches my eye. In that moment, I wish for more characters like those kids in the pages of children's books. This anthology is a fulfillment of that wish.

Returning the phone, she said, "You're an artist." The whole train seemed to shimmer. The stars shone brighter out the window. Ray knew Grampa and his art teacher believed in him, but nobody had ever said, "You're an artist." Just like that. Let alone someone his own age. Maybe Mel wasn't easy to get to know, but she sure did have a kind heart.

We specialize in story-- story is what defines us, what brings people together

In the gutter atop the empty, boarded-up building on my side of the road, Mourning Doves sense my dread and shudder in a cozy nest tucked in the gutter. Their kin have flown to warmer, brighter skies, but they remain my steadfast companions. I'm grateful, though I long to fly, too. But as long as The Bad Man lurks, another girl may need me. As long as The Bad Man lurks, I will stay.

Damn it, Lou!' Two hours later, Cam pounded at the steering wheel of his SUV, which was parked in my driveway. 'Stop being so dramatic. I can't second-guess every fucking word that flies out of my fucking mouth. If you pick, pick, pick at every goddamn little thing and ignore what I'm really trying to say, you're the one that's not respecting me enough to listen.

The stars knew what was coming, who was lurking. They always did. They'd seen it all before, countless times, across vast, green oceans and ethereal night skies. They recognizes the tiny, sparkling glow, nearly hidden in the wise old oak tree sprawling above the Roberts-Darlings' backyard. They recognized the crouched, shadowy figures within its branches. The stars weren't the only spectators closely observing Lily, Wendy, and Michael.

small-town girl. When

In terms of graphic versus prose, I could probably do a lecture on that topic. But what stood out most was the difference in pacing the language and resulting scenes. One illustration can do so much for the reader.