Quotes from Nikki Grimes

Originally I had planned to write just a couple of children's books and then, return the focus on adult literature. A funny thing happened along the way - I kept having new ideas, and then I looked up one day, and 30 years had passed!

Something about your life always makes its way into your stories. Thats just the nature of the beast.

It seemed uncanny that words, spread across a page just so, had the power to transport me to another time or place. But they could.

In 'Out of the Dark,' I'm talking about my own life. I'm not talking as a character or speaking as a character. I was not as free as when I write fiction.

I spent many hours ensconced in the local library, reading - nay, devouring - book after book after book. Books were my soul's delight.

In one sense, the stories I read betrayed me. Too few gave me back my mirror image. Fewer still spoke to, or acknowledged, the existence of the problems I faced as a black foster child from a dysfunctional and badly broken home.

Writing is a muscle that needs to be exercised.

The perfect size is happy" -Garvey

Son, don't mind what's missing. Count allthat's free: friendship, laughter, all thelove your heart can carry, and time -- count time.

STORM ENDING by Jean Toomer Thunder blossoms gorgeously above our heads, Great, hollow, bell-like flowers, Rumbling in the wind, Stretching clappers to strike our ears . . . Full-lipped flowers Bitten by the sun Bleeding rain Dripping rain like golden honey— And the sweet earth flying from the thunder.

They tell me I should squeeze my hopes into a miniature box of their design. But I'm not so inclined.

FOR A POET by Countee Cullen I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth, And laid them away in a box of gold; Where long will cling the lips of the moth, I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth; I hide no hate; I am not even wroth Who found earth's breath so keen and cold; I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth, And laid them away in a box of gold.

You can be pretty, and have a boyfriend, and still be smart, all at the same time. You don't always have to choose.

Stories are breadcrumbs "Just follow the trail of books and you will find me lost among galaxies of scorched stars and ships to Mars." -Garvey

The foster home they were leaving was no place to be. The mother, Mrs. Boone, slapped Paris around every time her real daughter did something that called for punishment....After each beating, the daughter, Lisa, would swear she had no clue how her mama got the mistaken notion that Paris was the one who'd smashed a favorite vase, or stained the kitchen tablecloth, or whatever. My name is Paris, not Stupid, Paris would say to herself.

Do friends make better mirrors?

Round still, but that's fine. Feeling good outside and in. Maybe I'm not thin, but skinny isn't perfect. The perfect size is happy.

I watch myself, like some stranger, rise and march right over to sit beside my old enemy, because you tell me your plan for her includes something nicer than a lonely life.

Don't bother about what people say, mija," he told me. "Let them talk. They only prove their ignorance." I know my father's right. I also know that words have teeth. Sometimes I get tired of the bite marks.

I know who I am. That's what's important—not proving something to some strangers I don't even care about

Best thing about friends: they know you inside and out. Worst thing about friends: They know you inside and out. My turtle shell is useless.

Joe shrugs off his hurt. "Knock, knock?" he says. "Not now, Joe." "Come on, man! Knock, knock." I give in. "Who's there?" "Your friend, Joe, who's always here for you.

For now, I strap on chapter four of Mars Rescue, study the console, then ease back on the throttle for a smooth flight through star fields.

Mom still looks at my skateboard as if it's a tiny coffin with my name stamped on the rim.