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In The Beginning Of The Book, The Miraculous Journey Of Edward Tulane, Edward Is More Enamored Of Himself Than He Is Of Anybody Else. He's A Very Fine Rabbit; He's Been Constructed Incredibly Well, And He Has A Wardrobe Of Amazing Clothing. He's Arrogant, And He Doesn't Care Whether Abilene Loves Him Or Not. As The Journey Progresses, As He Gets Passed From Hand To Hand, He Learns What It Means To Love. He Gets More And More Bedraggled, And His Clothing Is Lost; Yet He Becomes Finer In Soul And Heart Than He Was At The Beginning Of The Journey.

I'm Predisposed To Think That As A People, We're Hardwired To Understand Things Through The Telling Of Stories. I Think That As Human Beings It's Part Of Who We Are.

My Father Leaving The Family Shaped Who I Was And How I Looked At The World. By The Same Token, My Father Telling Me Fairy Tales That He Had Made Up Shaped Me Profoundly, Too.

Take This Squirrel, For Instance. Ulysses. Do I Believe He Can Type Poetry? Sure, I Do Believe It. There Is Much More Beauty In The World If I Believe Such A Thing Is Possible.

Farewell” Is Not The Word That You Would Like To Hear From Your Mother As You Are Being Led To The Dungeon By 2 Oversize Mice In Black Hoods. Words That You Would Like To Hear Are “take Me Instead, I Will Go To The Dungeon In My Sons Place.” There Is A Great Deal Of Comfort In Those Words.