Even Though There Are No

Never Mind What My Name Is,” The Man Said. “no One Can Pronounce It Anyway. Just Call Me Sir.

I'd Finished The First Two [books] And They Were Going To To Be Published, And [editor] Said, "we Need You To Write A Summary That Will Drive People To These Books." And It Took Forever. I Couldn't Think Of A Thing To Say. I Looked At The Back Of Other Children's Books That Were Full Of Giddy Praise And Corny Rhetorical Questions, You Know, "will She Have A Better Time At Summer Camp Than She Thinks?" "how Will She Escape From The Troll's Dungeon?" All These Terrible, Terrible Summaries Of Books, And I Just Couldn't.

It Is Often Said That Reading Is A Gift, But To My Mind That Is An Insufficient Description, For The Size Of The Gift Of Reading Is So Vast That It Is Difficult To See What Is Outside Its Wrapping.

That Night It Felt That Somehow By Flicking Them Off The Roof, The Matches Would Burn Down Everything, The Sparks From The Tips Of The Flames, Torching The World And All The Heartbroken People In It.

I'm Sure You Have Heard It Said That Appearance Does Not Matter So Much, And That It Is What's On The Inside That Counts. This Is, Of Course, Utter Nonsense, Because If It Were True Then People Who Were Good On This Inside Would Would Never Have To Comb Their Hair Or Take A Bath, And The Whole World Would Smell Even Worse Than It Already Does.