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We were awash in tiny attentions. Small gestures, words, empathies thought to be extinct came to life... We discovered the color of each other's eyes.

Jerry Spinelli

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Jerry Spinelli
Age: 83
Born: 1941
Born: February 1
Novelist
Writer
Norristown
Pennsylvania
Attention
Gestures
Eye
Empathy
Words
Discovered
Thought
Tiny
Life
Color
Small
Attentions
Came
Awash
Eyes
Extinct

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I have to tell you I love living in a world without clocks. The shackles are gone. I’m a puppy unleashed in a meadow of time. -- Stargirl
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Be very, very careful not to let the facts get mixed up with the truth.
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I went to Gettysburg College, where the famous Civil War battle was fought. I majored in English. I would've liked to major in writing, but they didn't offer a major in that.
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She laughed when there was no joke. She danced when there was no music. She had no friends, yet she was the friendliest person in school.
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Because life doesn't always happen according to a timetable or calendar. And feelings can't be scheduled.
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Did I ever tell you my pet peeve?' No,' I said. People who dress up their pets to look like Little Lord Fauntleroys or cowboys, clowns, ballerinas. As if it's not enough just to be a dog or cat or turtle.
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Every name is real. That's the nature of names.
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Nothing’s more fun than being carried away.
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Each night I lie down in a graveyard of memories. Moonlight spins a shroud about me.
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You are truly focused when you're so focused that you don't know you're focused.
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Peer pressure is just that: pressure.
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I think of the flower in the bud: huddled, compressed, dark. Yet somehow it feels the night, knows moon from sun. It waits...waits.
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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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Life is populated with scarecrows—all those people and things that seem so scary and trouble our sleep. Isn't it nice to know that most of them turn out to be made of nothing but straw?
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I became a children's author by accident.
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Where were we? she said. Getting credit, I said. What about it? Well, it's nice to get credit. The spokes of her rear wheel spun behind the curtain of her long skirt. She looked like a photograph from a hundred years ago. She turned her wide eyes on me. Is it? she said.
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Events become feelings, feelings become events
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I grabbed her, right there outside the lunch room in the swarming mob. I didn't care if others were watching. In fact, i hoped they were. I grabbed her and squeezed her. I had never been so happy and so proud in my life.
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Write what you care about. If you do that, you stand the best chance of doing your best writing.
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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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