Kate Dicamillo Quotes

Open your heart. Someone will come. Someone will come for you. But first you must open your heart.

There ain't no way you can hold onto something that wants to go, you understand? You can only love what you got while you got it.

There is nothing sweeter in this sad world than the sound of someone you love calling your name.

Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark. Begin at the beginning. Tell Gregory a story. Make some light.

You can't always judge people by the things they done. You got to judge them by what they are doing now.

Once upon a time," he said out loud to the darkness. He said these words because they were the best, the most powerful words that he knew and just the saying of them comforted him.

The world is dark, and light is precious. Come closer, dear reader. You must trust me. I am telling you a story.

You must be filled with expectancy. You must be awash in hope. You must wonder who will love you, whom you will love next.

Love, as we have already discussed, is a powerful, wonderful, ridiculous thing, capable of moving mountains. And spools of thread.

Reader, you must know that an interesting fate (sometimes involving rats, sometimes not) awaits almost everyone, mouse or man, who does not conform.

This is the danger of loving: No matter how powerful you are, no matter how many kingdoms you rule, you cannot stop those you love from dying.

It is important that you say what you mean to say. Time is too short. You must speak the words that matter.

If you have no intention of loving or being loved, the whole journey is pointless.

Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark.

But, reader, there is no comfort in the word "farewell," even if you say it in French. "Farewell" is a word that,in any language, is full of sorrow. It is a word that promises absolutely nothing.

Say it, reader. Say the word 'quest' out loud. It is an extraordinary word, isn't it? So small and yet so full of wonder, so full of hope.

It is a bad thing to have love and nowhere to put it.

Perhaps," said the man, "you would like to be lost with us. I have found it much more agreeable to be lost in the company of others.

I have been loved, Edward told the stars. So? said the stars. What difference does that make when you are all alone now?

There are those hearts, reader, that never mend again once they are broken. Or if they do mend, they heal themselves in a crooked and lopsided way, as if sewn together by a careless craftsman. Such was the fate of Chiaroscuro. His heart was broken. Picking up the spoon and placing it on his head, speaking of revenge, these things helped him to put his heart together again. But it was, alas, put together wrong.

Nothing would be easier without you, because you are everything, all of it- sprinkles, quarks, giant donuts, eggs sunny-side up- you are the ever-expanding universe to me.

READING SHOULD NOT BE PRESENTED TO CHILDREN AS A CHORE OR A DUTY. IT SHOULD BE OFFERED TO THEM AS A PRECIOUS GIFT.

Edward knew what it was like to say over and over again the names of those you had left behind. He knew what it was like to miss someone. And so he listened. And in his listening, his heart opened wide and then wider still. (page 103)

Magic is always impossible.... It begins with the impossible and ends with the impossible and is impossible in between. That is why it's magic.

Despereaux marveled at his own bravery. He admired his own defiance. And then, reader, he fainted.

You can always trust a dog that likes peanut butter.

How will the world change if we do not question it?

My favorite six letter word is always because it promises so much. My favorite five letter word is never because it insists on contradicting the promise. My favorite four letter word is once because it says it happened then. My favorite three letter word is yes because I’m just now learning to say it to my heart. My favorite two letter word is if because it makes all things possible like this: If not always If not never Then once. Yes.

Do you think everybody misses somebody? Like I miss my mama?” “Mmmm-hmmm,” said Gloria. She closed her eyes. “I believe, sometimes, that the whole world has an aching heart.

It's hard not to immediately fall in love witha dog who has a good sense of humor.

It is a horrible, terrible thing, the worst thing, to watch somebody you love die right in front of you and not be able to do nothing about it.

Did you think that rats do not have hearts? Wrong. All living things have a heart. And the heart of any living thing can be broken.

But answer me this: how can a story end happily if there is no love?

Love is ridiculous. But love is also wonderful. And powerful. And Despereaux's love for the Princess Pea would prove, in time, to be all of these things: powerful, wonderful, and ridiculous.

Reader, do you think it is a terrible thing to hope when there is really no reason to hope at all? Or is it (as the soldier said about happiness) something that you might just as well do, since, in the end, it really makes no difference to anyone but you?

There ain't a body, be it mouse or man, that ain't made better by a little soup.

Once there was a princess who was very beautiful. She shone bright as the stars on a moonless night. But what difference did it make that she was beautiful? None. No difference." Why did it make no difference?" asked Abilene. Because," said Pellegrina, "She was a princess who loved no one and cared nothing for love, even though there were many who loved her.

I promise to always turn back toward you.

Forgiveness, reader, is, I think, something very much like hope and love - a powerful, wonderful thing. And a ridiculous thing, too.

Look at me, he said to her. His arms and legs jerked. Look at me. You got your wish. I have learned how to love. And it’s a terrible thing. I’m broken. My heart is broken. Help me. The old woman turned and hobbled away. Come back, thought Edward. Fix me

We appreciate the complicated and wonderful gifts you give us in each other. And we appreciate the task you put down before us, of loving each other the best we can, even as you love us.

Other people’s tragedies should not be the subject of idle conversation.

That is surely the truth, at least for now. But perhaps you have not noticed: the truth is forever changing.

But let's not speak of what might have been. Let us speak instead of what is. You are whole.

You are down there alone, the stars seemed to say to him. And we are up here, in our constellations, together.

Someone will come for you, but first you must open your heart...

Have you, in truth, ever seen something so heartbreakingly lovely? What are we to make of a world where stars shine bright in the midst of so much darkness and gloom?

And so he was reading the story as if it were a spell and the words of it, spoken aloud, could make magic happen.

There," she said. She rocked him back and forth. "There, you foolish, beautiful boy who wants to change the world. There, there. And who could keep from loving you? Who could keep from loving a boy so brave and true?

Thinking about her was the same as the hole you keep on feeling with your tongue after you lose a tooth. Time after time, my mind kept going to that empty spot, the spot where I felt like she should be.

Perhaps what matters when all is said and done is not who puts us down but who picks us up.

And hope is like love...a ridiculous, wonderful, powerful thing.

Don't we all live in our heads? Where else could we possibly exist? Our brains are the universe.

He was reading from the beginning so that he could get to the end, where the reader was assured that the knight and the fair maiden lived together happily ever after.

Pea was aware suddenly of how fragile her heart was, how much darkness was inside it, fighting, always, with the light. She did not like the rat. She would neverlike the rat, but she knew what she must do to save her own heart.

Men and boys always want to go fight. They are always looking for a reason to go to war. It is the saddest thing. They have this abiding notion that war is fun. And no history lesson will convince them differently.

No one cared what she wanted. No one had ever cared. And perhaps, worst of all, no one ever would care.

So many miracles have not yet happened.

If you have no intention of loving or being loved, then the whole journey is pointless.

the story is not a pretty one. there is violence in it. And cruelty. But stories that are not pretty have a certain value, too, I suppose. Everything, as you well know (having lived in this world long enough to have figured out a thing or two for yourself), cannont always be sweetness and light.

Rats have a sense of humor. Rats, in fact think the world is very funny. And they are right, dear reader. They are right.

They were always on the move.But in truth said bull we are all going nowhere

It was a singular sensation to be held so gently and yet so fiercely, to be stared down at with so much love.

Life was so short; so many beautiful things slipped away.

Like most hearts, it was complicated, shaded with dark and dappled with light.

All words at all times, true or false, whispered or shouted, are clues to the workings of the human heart.

Dear God, thank you for warm summer nights and candlelight and good food. But thank you most of all for friends. We appreciate the complicated and wonderful gifts you give us in each other. And we appreciate the task you put down before us, of loving each other the best we can, even as you love us. We pray in Christ's name, Amen.

We forget that the simple gesture of putting a book in someone's hands can change a life. I want to remind you that it can. I want to thank you because it did. - 2010 Indies Choice Award

The shapes arranged themselves into words, and the words spelled out a delicious and wonderful phrase: Once upon a time.

Hands down, the biggest thrill is to get a letter from a kid saying, I loved your book. Will you write me another one?

You are the ever-expanding universe to me

I have learned how to love. And it's a terrible thing. I'm broken. My heart is broken. Help me.

Despereaux," she whispered. And then she shouted it, "Despereaux!" Reader, nothing is sweeter in this sad world than the sound of someone you love calling your name. Nothing.

We must ask ourselves these questions as often as we dare. How will the world change if we do not question it?

What was it like... to have someone who knew you would always return and who welcomed you with open arms?

I lay there and thought how life was like a Littmus Lozenge, how the sweet and the sad were all mixed up together and how hard it was to separate them out. It was confusing.

I have been loved said Edward to the stars

Never in his life had Edward been cradled like a baby. Abilene had not done it. Nor had Nellie. And most certainly, Bull had not. It was a singular sensation to be held so gently and yet so fiercely, to be stared down at with so much love. Edward felt the whole of his china body flood with warmth. (page 128)

I believe, sometimes, that the whole world has an aching heart." - Gloria Dump

In a dark time, doors will sometimes magically open and let us step inside to the warmth and light of a community.

The world was beautiful. It surprised me, how beautiful it kept on insisting on being. In spite of all the lies, it was beautiful.

That was the thing about tragedy. It was just sitting there, keeping you company, waiting. And you had absolutely no idea.

Longing is not always a reciprocal thing.

Allow me to congratulate you on your very astute powers of observation.

Everything, as you well know . . . cannot always be sweetness and light.

The undoing is almost always more difficult than the doing.

[He] had the soul of a poet, and because of this, he liked very much to consider questions that had no answers.

But in truth,' said Bull, 'we are going nowhere. That my friend, is the irony of our constant movement.

Bah, cynics," said Dr. Meescham. "Cynics are people who are afraid to believe.

There is a lot of love in him, a lot of love in his heart... And he is up there with no one and nothing to love. It is a bad thing to have love and no where to put it.

But still, here are the words Despereaux Tilling spoke to his father. He said, "I forgive you, Pa!" And he said those words because he sensed that it was the only way to save his heart, to stop it from breaking in two. Despereaux, reader, spoke those words to save himself.

I honor you!

Despereaux looked at his father, at his grey-streaked fur and trembling whiskers and his front paws clasped together in front of his heart, and he felt suddenly as if his own heart would break in two. His father looked so small, so sad. "Forgive me," said Lester again. Forgiveness, reader, is, I think, something very much like hope and love, a powerful, wonderful thing. And a ridiculous thing, too. Isn't it ridiculous, after all, to think that a son could forgive his father for beating the drum that sent him to his death? Isn't it ridiculous to think that a mouse ever could forgive anyone for such perfidy? But still, here are the words Despereaux Tilling spoke to his father. He said, "I forgive you, Pa." And he said those words because he sensed it was the only way to save his own heart, to stop it from breaking in two. Despereaux, reader, spoke those words to save himself.

Do you know what it means to be emphatic? I will tell you: It means that when you are being forcibly taken to a dungeon, when you have a large knife at your back, when you are trying to be brave, you are able, still, to think for a moment of the person who is holding the knife.

Reader, you may ask this question; in fact, you must ask this question: Is it ridiculous for a very small, sickly, big-eared mouse to fall in love with a beautiful princess named Pea? The answer is . . . yes. Of course, it's ridiculous. Love is ridiculous. But love is also wonderful. And powerful.

Pascal," said Dr. Meescham, "had it that since it could not be proven whether God existed, one might as well believe that he did, because there was everything to gain by believing and nothing to lose. This is how it is for me. What do I lose if I choose to believe? Nothing!" "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.

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.

During the night, while Bull and Lucy slept, Edward, with ever-open eyes, stared up at the constellations. He said their names, and then he said the names of the people who loved him. He started with Abilene, and then went on to Nellie and Lawrence and from there to Bull and Lucy, and then he ended again with Abilene: Abilene, Nellie, Lawrence, Bull, Lucy, Abilene. See? Edward told Pellegrina. I am not like the princess. I know about love.

Edward thought about everything that had happened to him in his short life. What kind of adventures would you have if you were in the world for a century? The old doll said, “I wonder who will come for me this time. Someone will come. Someone always comes. Who will it be?” “I don’t care if anyone comes for me,” said Edward. “But that’s dreadful,” said the old doll. “There’s no point in going on if you feel that way. No point at all. You must be filled with expectancy. You must be awash in hope. You must wonder who will love you, whom you will love next.” “I am done with being loved,” Edward told her. “I’m done with loving. It’s too painful.” “Pish,” said the old doll. “Where is your courage?” “Somewhere else, I guess,” said Edward. “You disappoint me,” she said. “You disappoint me greatly. If you have no intention of loving or being loved, then the whole journey is pointless. You might as well leap from this shelf right now and let yourself shatter into a million pieces. Get it over with. Get it all over with now.” “I would leap if I was able,” said Edward. “Shall I push you?” said the old doll

I bet you didn’t think I’d come back. But here I am. I come to save you.” Too late, thought Edward as Bryce climbed the pole and worked at the wires that were tied around his wrists. I am nothing but a hollow rabbit. Too late, thought Edward as Bryce pulled the nails out of his ears. I am only a doll made of china. But when the last nail was out and he fell forward into Bryce’s arms, the rabbit felt a rush of relief, and the feeling of relief was followed by one of joy. Perhaps, he thought, it is not too late, after all, for me to be saved.