How many dancing rabbits have you seen in your life?

Look at me, he said to her. His arms and legs jerked. You got your wish. I have learned how to love. And it’s a terrible thing. I’m broken. My heart is broken. Help me.

The old woman turned and hobbled away.

Come back, thought Edward. Fix me.

Bryce cried harder. He made Edward dance faster.

Finally, when the sun was gone and the streets were dark, Bryce stopped playing his harmonica.

“I’m done now,” he said.

He let Edward fall to the pavement. “I ain’t gonna cry anymore.”

—Kate DiCamillo, The Mysterious Journey of Edward Tulane

We read to know we're not alone

I have never in my life seen a writer describe this sensation that I used to feel almost weekly and still occasionally bump up against. There's a fluttering in the chest, a mild pressure in the eyes. You become aware of the full range of your peripheral vision. And you're dead certain something very important is about to be revealed.

Damned if you know what, though.

Oh my

If I ever meet Kate DiCamillo in person, I am going to never stop hugging her. I may ask her to co-marry my wife and me.

Good lord that woman can write longing that makes your bones ache and your eyes dogpaddle.

The Big Push Begins

We finished reading Because of Winn-Dixie last night. In it there is a candy, the Littmus Lozenge, that tastes sweet and like sadness at the same time. People can't stop eating it.

I'm thinking about that candy today.

(Incidentally, if you haven't read Kate DiCamillo, read literally everything she's ever done. She has the rare stuff. Every one of her books is a Littmus Lozenge.)