The Image I Had Was

It's A Weird Kind Of Disconnect That This Whole Story [he Miraculous Journey Of Edward Tulane] Grew Around A Real Doll Of Mine, And Here He Is, With His "edward" Expression On His Face. It's Kind Of Reality Bumping Into Fantasy.

You Don't Realize What You're Going To Get, And You Can't Prepare Yourself For It.

When We Read Together, We Connect. Together, We See The World. Together, We See One Another.

And Hope Is Like Love...a Ridiculous, Wonderful, Powerful Thing.

Seasons Passed, Fall And Winter And Spring And Summer. Leaves Blew In Through The Open Door Of Lucius Clarke’s Shop, And Rain, And The Green Outrageous Hopeful Light Of Spring. People Came And Went, Grandmothers And Doll Collectors And Little Girls With Their Mothers. Edward Tulane Waited. The Seasons Turned Into Years. Edward Tulane Waited. He Repeated The Old Doll’s Words Over And Over Until They Wore A Smooth Groove Of Hope In His Brain: Someone Will Come; Someone Will Come For You.