It is not enough to simply teach children to read; we have to give them something worth reading. Something that will stretch their imaginations- something that will help them make sense of their own lives
She had tricked him. She had made him leave his old self behind and come into her world, and then before he was really at home in it but too late to go back, she had left him stranded there--like an astronaut wandering about on the moon. Alone.
It was Leslie who had taken him from the cow pasture into Terabithia and turned him into a king. He had thought that was it. Wasn't king the best you could be? Now it occurred to him that perhaps Terabithia was like a castle where you came to be knighted. After you stayed for a while and grew strong you had to move on. For hadn't Leslie, even in Terabithia, tried to push back the walls of his mind and make him see beyond to the shining worl..
Shh," he said. "Look." "Where?" "Can't you see'um?" he whispered. "All the Terabithians standing on tiptoe to see you." "Me?" "Shh, yes. There's a rumor going around that the beautiful girl arrving today might be the queen they've been waiting for."
When my husband died, people kept telling me not to cry. People kept trying to help me to forget. But I didn't want to forget... So I realize, that if it's hard for me, how much harder it must be for you.
It wasn't so much that he minded telling Leslie that he was afraid to go; it was that he minded being afraid. It was as though he had been made with a great piece missing - one of May Belle's puzzles with this huge gap where somebody's eye should have been. Lord, it would be better to be born without an arm than to go through life with no guts.
My heart is heavy, she thought. It's not just a saying. It is what is--heavy, a great stone lodged in my breast, pressing down my whole being. How can I even stand straight and look out upon the world? I am doubled over into myself and, for all the weight, find only emptiness.
We need a place," she said, "just for us. It would be so secret that we would never tell anyone in the whole world about it." ... She lowered her voice almost to a whisper. "It might be a whole secret country," she continued, "and you and I would be the rulers of it."
That was the rule that you never mixed up troubles at home with life at school. When parents were poor or ignorant or mean, or even just didn't believe in having a TV set, it was up to their kids to protect them.
It's crazy isn't it?" She shook her head. "You have to believe it, but you hate it. I don't have to believe it, and I think it's beautiful." She shook her head again. "It's crazy."
Miss Edmunds was one of his secrets. He was in love with her. Not the kind of silly stuff Ellie and Brenda giggled about on the telephone. This was too real and too deep to talk about, even to think about very much.
Jess believed, that she thought he was the best. It was not the kind of best that counted either at school or at home, but it was a genuine kind of best. He kept the knowledge of it buried inside himself like a pirate treasure. He was rich, very rich, but no one could know about it for now except his fellow outlaw, Julia Edmunds.
Church always seemed the same. Jess could tune it out the same way he tuned out school, with his body standing up and sitting down in unison with the rest of the congregation but his mind numb and floating, not really thinking or dreaming but at least free.
Leslie was one of those people who sat quietly at her desk, never whispering or daydreaming or chewing gum, doing beautiful schoolwork, and yet her brain was so full of mischief that if the teacher could have once seen through that mask of perfection, she would have thrown her out in horror.
What is man--and of course the writer means all of us puny little insignificant creatures--what is a mere human being that God who made the immense universe should ever notice?' She chuckled. 'The sky does take you down to size.' Not even big as bugs. Not even a speck of dust to the nearest star,' Angel agreed. But the psalmist answers his own question. "Thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and ..
If life is so bad, how come you're so happy?" "Did I say bad? I said it was tough. Nothing to make you happy like doing good on a tough job, now is there?"
But then, oh, my blessed, he smiled. I guess from that moment I knew I was going to marry Joseph Wojtkiewicz--God, pope, three motherless children, unspellable name and all. For when he smiled, he looked like the kind of man who would sing to the oysters.
Que va. --Hablaba en serio. Jess lo supo por su mirada--. Toda esa historia de Jesus es realmente interesante, ?no te parece? --?Que quieres decir? --Toda aquella gente que quiso matarle sin que el les hubiera hecho nada. Vacilo. De verdad que era una historia preciosa: como la de Abraham Lincoln o Socrates o Aslan. --No tiene nada de hermosa --interrumpio May Belle--. Da miedo eso de hacer agujeros en las manos de alguien. --Tienes razon, ..
Gee, I'm really glad I came." Jess turned to Leslie in unbelief. "It was better than a movie." "You're kidding." "No, I'm not." And she wasn't. He could tell by her face. "That whole Jesus thing is really interesting, isn't it?" "What d'you mean?" "All those people wanting to kill him when he hadn't done anything to hurt them." She hesitated. "It's really kind of a beautiful story--like Abraham Lincoln or Socrates--or Aslan."
I just gave up trying to be a Christian... Let's face it, I ain't got the knack for holiness. Besides, I didn't have the slightest little desire to join the likes of Reverend Pelham at the dinner table for fourteen minutes, much less at the banquet table of Heaven eternally. Eternity is a mighty long time to be stuck with people who judge every word you say and think and condemn most of what you do. It struck me as pretty miserable company...