Alfred T. Slipper was a janitor. Most of the time (often, in fact) they treated him with disdain. They had no idea of the astonishing acts of heroism, the blinding light, contained within his outward...

I didn’t start working on children’s books until I got a job at a book warehouse on the children’s floor. When I started reading some of the books, I was so impressed.

Not much goes on in the mind of a squirrel.Huge portions of what is loosely termed “the squirrel brain” are given over to one thought: food.The average squirrel cogitation goes something like this: I wonder...

It distresses me that parents insist that their children read or make them read. The best way for children to treasure reading is to see the adults in their lives reading for their own pleasure.

There is nothing worse than war in the summetime.

No one cared what she wanted. No one had ever cared. And perhaps, worst of all, no one ever would care.

So many miracles have not yet happened.

There,” she said. She rocked him back and forth. “There, you foolish, beautiful boy who wants to change the world. There, there. And who could keep from loving you? Who could keep from loving a...

I hate to cook and love to eat.

This is a wonderful joke to play upon a prisoner, to promise forgiveness.

My goal is two pages a day, five days a week. I never want to write, but I’m always glad that I have done it. After I write, I go to work at the bookstore.

We forget that the simple gesture of putting a book in someone’s hands can change a life. I want to remind you that it can. I want to thank you because it did. – 2010...

Besides, who ever asked you what you wanted in this world, girl?The answer to that question, reader, as you well know, was absolutely no one.

What?” said the first hood irritably. Despereaux shuddered. His own brother was delivering him to the dungeon. His heart stopped beating and shrunk to a small, cold, disbelieving pebble.

I have a Bachelor of Arts in English, which means I had a lot of formal training in reading.

Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark. Begin at the beginning. Tell Gregory a story. Make some light.

Reading should not be presented to children as a chore, a duty. It should be offered as a gift.

Despereaux was reading the story out loud to himself. He was reading from the beginning so that he could get to the end…

Open your heart. Someone will come. Someone will come for you. But first you must open your heart.

They lived happily ever after. It said so. In the book. They were the last words on the page. Happily ever after. Despereaux was sure that he had read exactly those words time and time...

I have done quite a few signings at bookstores, libraries and conferences. I have received phone calls and letters from people who liked the book.

the story is not a pretty one. there is violence in it. And cruelty. But stories that are not pretty have a certain value, too, I suppose. Everything, as you well know (having lived in...

The story is about what happens when you share your heart with somebody else; it is also about the danger of keeping things locked up.

It is our duty and our joy to communicate our hearts to each other. Words assist us in this task.

There ain’t a body, be it mouse or man, that ain’t made better by a little soup.

Farewell” is a word that, in any language, is full of sorrow. It is a word that promises absolutely nothing.

I like to think of myself as a storyteller.

Reader, you must know that an interesting fate (sometimes involving rats, sometimes not) awaits almost everyone, mouse or man, who does not conform.

Understand, I had absolutely no interest in writing; I wanted to be a Writer.

The sound of the king’s music made Despereaux’s soul grow large and light inside of him.

Everything I write comes from my childhood in one way or another. I am forever drawing on the sense of mystery and wonder and possibility that pervaded that time of my life.

She said the words, and then she had a strange moment of seeing them, hanging there over her head. “You’re going to vacuum up that squirrel!”There is just no predicting what kind of sentences you...

I think of myself as an enormously lucky person.

There ain’t no way you can hold onto something that wants to go, you understand? You can only love what you got while you got it.

Nothingwould beeasier withoutyou,because youare everything,all of it-sprinkles, quarks, giantdonuts, eggs sunny-side up-youare the ever-expandinguniverseto me.

Edward knew what it was like to say over and over again the names of those you had left behind. He knew what it was like to miss someone. And so he listened. And in...

Normally, Edward would have found intrusive, clingy behavior of this sort very annoying, but there was something about Sarah Ruth. He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to...

Hands down, the biggest thrill is to get a letter from a kid saying, I loved your book. Will you write me another one?

Dear God, thank you for warm summer nights and candlelight and good food. But thank you most of all for friends. We appreciate the complicated and wonderful gifts you give us in each other. And...

I thought I was going nowhere. Now I can see there was a pattern.

You can’t always judge people by the things they done. You got to judge them by what they are doing now.

I love your round head,the brilliant green,the watching blue,these letters,this world, you.I am very, very hungry.

He was agitated for some reason that he could not name. (page 35)

Magic is always impossible. It begins with the impossible and ends with the impossible and is impossible in between. That’s why it is magic.

I always write with music. It takes me a while to figure out the right piece of music for what I’m working on. Once I figure it out, that’s the only thing I’ll play.

It is a horrible, terrible thing, the worst thing, to watch somebody you love die right in front of you and not be able to do nothing about it.

I was born in Philadelphia and currently live in Minneapolis. I write for both children and adults.

If you have no intention of loving or being loved, the whole journey is pointless.

There are those hearts, reader, that never mend again once they are broken. Or if they do mend, they heal themselves in a crooked and lopsided way, as if sewn together by a careless craftsman....

You can always trust a dog that likes peanut butter.