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This was the start of a period that blurs as I try to recall it. Incidents seem to cascade and merge. Events become feelings, fellings become events. Head and heart are contrary historians.

Jerry Spinelli

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Jerry Spinelli
Age: 83
Born: 1941
Born: February 1
Novelist
Writer
Norristown
Pennsylvania
Become
Period
Cascade
Seems
Contrary
Merge
Heart
Periods
Blur
Trying
Seem
Historians
Events
Incidents
Head
Recall
Start
Recalls
Feelings
Historian
Blurs

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I became a children's author by accident.
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We wanted to define her, to wrap her up as we did each other, but we could not seem to get past weird and strange and goofy. Her ways knocked us off balance.
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I’ll still be missing you as much as ever. I’l still smile at the memory of you. I’ll still be - Okay, I’ll say it again - loving you, but I won’t abandon myseld for you. I cannot be faithful to you without being faithful to myself.
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I felt alone on the planet, drifting through the cosmos. With both hands I reached out to the night. There was no answer. Or maybe I just couldn't hear it.
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They don't live here. They live in Heaven.' Where's that?' I don't know,' I said. 'Enos says it's right here, on this side of the wall, but I never saw an angel over here. Kuba says it's in Russia. Olek says Washington America.' What's Washington America?' Enos says it's a place with no wall and no lice and lots of potatoes.
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You occupied my space. But because you were not in my present, when I looked into my future I saw . . . nothing. Isn't that sad? And stupid?
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She's in tenth grade,' he said. 'I hear she's been homeschooled till now.' Maybe that explains it,' I said.
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In that moonlit hour, I acquired a sense of the otherness of things. I liked the feeling the moonlight gave me, as if it wasn't the opposite of day, but its underside, its private side, when the fabulous purred on my snow-white sheet like some dark cat come in from the desert.
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Letter from Mr. B: Why does a back scratch feel better coming from somebody else than if you do it yourself?
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Who are you if you lose your favorite person? Can you lose your favorite person without losing yourself? I reach for Stargirl and she's gone. I'm not me anymore.
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No one's hurt is too small, no worry too removed, no blessing so elusive that it cannot be seen by the eyes in the back of the human heart.
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Nothing’s more fun than being carried away.
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The kids who leave their favorite authors behind do not in fact leave us utterly abandoned, but in due time drive children of their own to the bookstore and the post office.
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Love is big. Love makes room for conflicting feelings.
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Hey, this is it—right now!—the time when you find out who you are and what you can do. And how will you ever know if you don't try new stuff?
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Why fit in when you're born to stand out?
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As we meandered, she said my name three times: Stargirl? Yes? That was better than TV. It was. Stargirl? Yes? Does the sun do that everyday? Yes. Stargirl? Yes? Everyday is sun day.
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Maybe it was the angle, but her fawn's eyes, looking up at me, seemed larger than ever. I had to make an effort to keep my balance lest I fall into them.
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Nobody has the time, the time cannot be owned. The time is free to everyone
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I seem to have a natural tendency to want to share my own observations and feelings with other people, and writing seems to be the way I'm best equipped to do that.
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