Writing Will Be Like A

Anything Seems Possible At Night When The Rest Of The World Has Gone To Sleep.

I Sit In My Tree I Sing Like The Birds My Beak Is My Pen My Songs Are My Poems.

Everybody's Got The Seam Of Goodness In Them, Kit," Said Grandpa. "just A Matter Of Whether It Can Be Found And Brought Out Into The Light.

This Is Our World. Aye, There's More Than Enough Of Darkness In It. But Over Everything There's All This Joy, Kit. There's All This Lovely, Lovely Light.

Sometimes We Just Have To Accept There Are Things We Can’t Know. Why Is Your Sister Ill? Why Did My Father Die?…sometimes We Think We Should Be Able To Know Everything. But We Can’t. We Have To Allow Ourselves To See What There Is To See, And We Have To Imagine.