Linda Sue Park Quotes

A mistake made with good in your heart is still a mistake, but it is one for which you must forgive yourself.

One step at a time, one day at a time, just today, just this day to get through.

Why was it that pride and foolishness were so often close companions?

One step at a time . . . one day at a time. Just today—just this day to get through . . .

You burn the paper, but not the words. You silence the words, but not the thoughts. You kill the thoughts only if you kill the man. And you will find that his thoughts rise again in the minds of others - twice as strong as before.

Reading for writers is like training for athletes.

If a man is keeping an idea to himself, and that idea is taken by stealth or trickery-I say it is stealing. But once a man has revealed his idea to others, it is no longer his alone. It belongs to the world.

How could an alphabet—letters that didn't even mean anything by themselves—be important? But it was important. Our stories, our names, our alphabet. Even Uncle's newspaper. It was all about words. If words weren't important, they wouldn't try so hard to take them away.

He was floating with his head down, blood streaming from a bullet hole in the back of his neck.

If he were older and stronger, would he have given water to those men? Or would he, like most of the group, have kept his water for himself?

More than twelve hundred boys arrived safely. It took them a year and a half.

How could memories feel so close and so far away at the same time?

Quitting leads to much less happiness in life than perseverance and hope. Salva Dut

Stay calm when things are hard or not going right with you. You will get through it when you persevere instead of quitting.

Her sickness came from the water,” the nurse explained. “She should drink only good clean water. If the water is dirty, you should boil it for a count of two hundred before she drinks

The bag sprang a leak. The leak had to be patched. The patch sprang a leak. The crew patched the patch. Then the bag sprang another leak. The drilling could not go on.

Salva shouldered his way through the crowd until he was standing in front of the list. He raised his head slowly and began reading through the names. There it was. Salva Dut—Rochester, New York. Salva was going to New York. He was going to America!

They patched the bag again. The drilling went on.

It was all about words. If words weren't important, they wouldn't try so hard to take them away.

And one day at a time, the group made its way to Kenya. More than twelve hundred boys arrived safely. It took them a year and a half.

How much slower the work went when the joy of it was gone.

Fire and falling water. Always the same, yet always changing.

But the truth might as well not exist to those who refuse to believe it.

I have chosen the way of my death, which is something few of us are privileged to do.

Tree-ear has taken his first step toward his dream. Realizing a dream can be very hard, though. Sometimes, a dream can seem so far away, it almost disappears. But maybe if Tree-ear takes it one hill, one valley, one day at a time, just maybe, he'll be able to make his dream come true.

To young people, I would like to say: Stay calm when things are hard or not going right with you. You will get through it when you persevere instead of quitting. Quitting leads to much less happiness in life than perseverance and hope. Salva Dut Rochester, New York 2010

There was always plenty of fruit that clung stubbornly to the seed. He would nibble and suck at it to get every last shred, making it last for hours.

Stay calm when things are hard or not going right with you. You will get through it when you persevere instead of quitting. Quitting leads to much less happiness in life than perseverance and hope. Salva Dut Rochester, New York

We are afraid of the things we do not know—just because we do not know them.

And she found her voice. "Thank you," she said, and looked up at him bravely. "Thank you for bringing the water.

The line between passionate and crazy can be a thin one.

Marial and Uncle were no longer by his side, and they never would be again, but Salva knew that both of them would have wanted him to survive, to finish the trip and reach the Itang refugee camp safely. It was almost as if they had left their strength with him, to help him on his journey.

Every story has another story inside, but you don't usually get to read the inside one. It's deleted or torn up or maybe filed away before the story becomes a book ...

Nya sat outside in the shade of the house and ate.

I am happy to meet you, Nya,” he said. “My name is Salva.

Things that you can’t go buy another one, that’s what you gotta save.

Girls. The oldest mystery in the universe.

Women,” Nellie answered. “Women kicking butt all over the place.

So sad,” Victor said, “the things people will do to each other.” Dan sat back against the seat cushion and let out a sharp breath.

upon row of books, most of them bound in leather, reached to the ceiling several stories over their heads, illuminated by the faint glow of autumn sunlight through the marble. It was truly striking.

Salva had been in Rochester for more than six years now. He was going to college and had decided to study business. He had a vague idea that he would like to return to Sudan someday, to help the people who lived there.

I don’t feel like playing anymore—all because of that stupid announcement. “Express your gratitude,” they’d said. What they take: our rice, our language, our names. What they give: little rubber balls. I can’t feel grateful about such a bad deal.

[W]hat people truly desire is access to the knowledge and information that ultimately lead to a better life--the collected wisdom of the ages found only in one place: a well-stocked library. To the teachers and librarians and everyone on the frontlines of bringing literature to young people: I know you have days when your work seems humdrum, or unappreciated, or embattled, and I hope on those days you will take a few moments to reflect with pride on the importance of the work you do. For it is indeed of enormous importance--the job of safeguarding and sharing the world's wisdom. All of you are engaged in the vital task of providing the next generation with the tools they will need to save the world. The ability to read and access information isn't just a power--it's a superpower. Which means that you aren't just heroes--you're superheroes. I believe that with all my heart.

All Summer in a Day” by Ray Bradbury Because of Winn-Dixie by Kate DiCamillo Big Nate series by Lincoln Peirce The Black Cauldron (The Chronicles of Prydain) by Lloyd Alexander The Book Thief  by Markus Zusak Brian’s Hunt by Gary Paulsen Brian’s Winter by Gary Paulsen Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson Bud, Not Buddy by Christopher Paul Curtis The Call of the Wild by Jack London The Cat in the Hat by Dr. Seuss Charlotte’s Web by E. B. White The Chronicles of Narnia series by C. S. Lewis Diary of a Wimpy Kid series by Jeff Kinney Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury The Giver by Lois Lowry Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling Hatchet by Gary Paulsen The High King (The Chronicles of Prydain) by Lloyd Alexander The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien Holes by Louis Sachar The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins I Am LeBron James by Grace Norwich I Am Stephen Curry by Jon Fishman Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O’Dell Johnny Tremain by Esther Hoskins Forbes Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead George Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson LeBron’s Dream Team: How Five Friends Made History by LeBron James and Buzz Bissinger The Lightning Thief  (Percy Jackson and the Olympians) by Rick Riordan A Long Walk to Water by Linda Sue Park The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood by Howard Pyle Number the Stars by Lois Lowry The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton The River by Gary Paulsen The Sailor Dog by Margaret Wise Brown Sarah, Plain and Tall by Patricia MacLachlan Shiloh by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor “A Sound of Thunder” by Ray Bradbury Star Wars Expanded Universe novels (written by many authors) Star Wars series (written by many authors) The Swiss Family Robinson by Johann D. Wyss Tales from a Not-So-Graceful Ice Princess (Dork Diaries) by Rachel Renée Russell Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing by Judy Blume “The Tell-Tale Heart” by Edgar Allan Poe Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt Under the Blood-Red Sun by Graham Salisbury The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle

I always thought it was a shame . . . that we didn’t keep those things safe somehow.

The boy was still looking at him. "Your family?" he asked. Salva shook his head. "Me, too, " the boy said. He sighed, and Salva heard that sigh all the way to his heart.

That's one of Patrick's favorite theories. He read somewhere that people remember stuff better if they read or think about it right before they fall asleep.

A journey, eh?” Crane-man continued whittling. “It is a good thing for a man to see the world if he can. Where will you go?

Not revenge. Justice. And not just for us and our parents, but for the whole world.

I can’t go to another country, Salva thought. If I do, my family will never find me.

Okay," Nellie said, "whatcha got?" Dan's expression was pure smugness. "I want you to beg," he said.

No!" Nellie said fiercely. "I got into it because of the money. But now --

Meet Madeleine Cahill," he said. "Founder of the Madrigal line.

(T)he path to wisdom lies not in certainty, but in trying to understand.

People are a wonder. They will always surprise you, for both good and ill.

Maybe kindness can get to be a habit for a person. Like a lot of other things.

Think carefully first, and then act boldly.

Astrid: Here are the figures you requested. Hope these work for you. Cheers, LaCher P.S. Don’t forget the lucky horsemen!

Maybe praying was another way to practice hope.

We still spoke Korean at home, but on the streets we always had to speak Japanese.

We can't, little cricket. It is against the law to fly this flag - even to put up a picture of it. Korea is part of the Japanese Empire now. But someday this will be our own country once more. Your own country.

I remember Uncle’s eyes glittering with pain and anger. I remember something else, too. How I’d felt hearing about Abuji, the way he’d done nothing to help. Back then I couldn’t understand it. Why hadn’t he done something? Those soldiers tonight, tearing apart our house. And me? I’d stood there, frozen. I hadn’t done anything—I hadn’t even said anything. And I’m three years older than Abuji was then. I know now. What could he have done? What could any of us do?

I have been authorized to tell you both, Amy and Dan, that you have been granted active Madrigal status." He paused. "I might add, you are by far the youngest candidates ever to have achieved this… And... Miss Gomez? Welcome to the Madrigals.

know much about him, except that his name was Buksa. As they walked along, Buksa slowed down. Salva wondered sluggishly if they shouldn’t try to keep up a bit better. Just then Buksa stopped walking. Salva stopped, too. But he was too weak and hungry to ask why they were standing still. Buksa cocked his head and furrowed his brow, listening. They stood motionless for several moments. Salva could hear the noise of the rest of the group ahead of them, a few faint voices, birds calling somewhere in the trees. . . . He strained his ears. What was it? Jet planes? Bombs? Was the gunfire getting closer, instead of farther away? Salva’s fear began to grow until it was even stronger than his hunger. Then— “Ah.” A slow smile spread over Buksa’s face. “There. You hear?” Salva frowned and shook his head.

Sometimes the other guys teased [Patrick] about having a girl friend, but it didn't seem to bother him. It didn't bother me, either. If those guys couldn't tell the difference between a friend and a girlfriend—well, that made them too dense to be worth worrying about.

One step at a time... one day at a time. Just today-just this day to get through... Salva told himself this every day. He told the boys in the group, too. And one day at a time, the group made it's way to Kenya. More than twelve hundred boys arrived safely. It took them a year and a half.

But [Patrick's] character is partly based on a boy named Mark who lived across the street from me when I was growing up ... I liked hanging out with him and was sad when he moved away after only a year in the neighborhood. I guess writing about Patrick is a way for me to spend more time with Mark.

There was a big lake three days’ walk from Nya’s village. Every year when the rains stopped and the pond near the village dried up, Nya’s family moved from their home to a camp near the big lake. Nya’s family did not live by the lake all year round because of the fighting. Her tribe, the Nuer, often fought with the rival Dinka tribe over the land surrounding the lake. Men and boys were hurt and even killed when the two groups clashed. So Nya and the rest of her village lived at the lake only during the five months of the dry season, when both tribes were so busy struggling for survival that the fighting occurred far less often.

It's not hard to care about people who are like you...Your own family, and people like them. But...we have to always make the extra effort with people who aren't like us. To care about them and listen to them, especially if they'e different from us. Because that's one of the things that makes us human. It's something we can do that other animals can't.

Foxes were dreaded animals. They were not large or fierce, like the bears and tigers that roamed the mountains, but they were known to be fiendishly clever. some people even believed that foxes possessed evil magic. It was said that a fox could lure a man to his doom, tricking him into coming to its den, where somehow he would be fed to its offspring. "Even to say the word made a trickle of fear run down Tree-Ear's spine... "'So it was dusk, and I was still a good distance away. Suddenly, a fox appeared before me. It stopped there, right in the middle of the path, grinning with all its teeth shining white, licking its lips, its eyes glowing, its broad tail swishing back and forth slowly, back and forth-' "'Enough!' Tree-Ear's eyes were wide with horror. 'What happened?' "Crane-man picked up the last morsel of rice with his chopsticks and popped it into his mouth. 'Nothing,' he said. 'I have come to believe that foxes could not possibly be as clever as we think them. There I was, close enough to touch one, with a bad leg as well - and here I still am today.

I can’t go to another country, Salva thought. If I do, my family will never find me. . . . Marial put his arm around Salva’s shoulders. He seemed to know what Salva was thinking, for he said, “It doesn’t matter. Don’t you know that if we keep walking east, we’ll go all the way around the world and come right back here to Sudan? That’s when we’ll find our families!

Yes, there it is again. Come!” Buksa began walking very quickly. Salva struggled to keep up. Twice Buksa paused to listen, then kept going even faster. “What—” Salva started to ask. Buksa stopped abruptly in front of a very large tree. “Yes!” he said. “Now go call the others!” By now Salva had caught the feeling of excitement. “But what shall I tell them?” “The bird. The one I was listening to. He led me right here.” Buksa’s smile was even bigger now. “You see that?” He pointed up at the branches of the tree. “Beehive. A fine, large one.” Salva hurried off to call the rest of the group. He had heard of this, that the Jur-chol could follow the call of the bird called the honey guide! But he had never seen it done before. Honey! This night, they would feast!

stands of stunted trees. There was little to eat: a few fruits here and there, always either unripe or worm-rotten. Salva’s peanuts were gone by the end of the third day. After about a week, they were joined by more people—another group of Dinka and several members of a tribe called the Jur-chol. Men and women, boys and girls, old and young, walking, walking. . . . Walking to nowhere. Salva had never been so hungry. He stumbled along, somehow moving one foot ahead of the other, not noticing the ground he walked on or the forest around him or the light in the sky. Nothing was real except his hunger, once a hollow in his stomach but now a deep buzzing pain in every part of him. Usually he walked among the Dinka, but today, shuffling along in a daze, he found he had fallen a little behind. Walking next to him was a young man from the Jur-chol. Salva didn’t

He felt as though he were standing on the edge of a giant hole – a hole filled with the black despair of nothingness. I am alone now. I am all that is left of my family. His father, who had sent Salva to school . . . brought him treats, like mangoes . . . trusted him to take care of the herd . . . His mother, always ready with food and milk and a soft hand to stroke Salva’s head. His brothers and sisters, whom he had laughed with and played with and looked after . . . He would never see them again. How can I go on without them? But how can I not go on? They would want me to survive . . . to grow up and make something of my life . . . to honour their memories. What was it Uncle had said during that first terrible day in the desert? ‘Do you see that group of bushes? You need only to walk as far as those bushes. . .’ Uncle had helped him get through the desert that way, bit by bit, one step at a time. Perhaps . . . perhaps Salva could get through life at the camp in the same way. I need only to get through the rest of this day, he told himself. This day and no other.

Dan was the first to speak, his words blurred by the roar of the cascading water. “Pools,” he said. “What about the pools?” “Poos?” Amy said. “What poos?” Atticus asked. “Bird poos? It’s called guano. Actually, it’s pretty interesting how many different words there are for animal poos. Guano, dung, droppings, spoors, cow pies, buffalo chips . . . One of my favorites is fewmets.” Dan said, “But I didn’t —” “Fewmets — that’s from medieval times, the poo you find when an animal is being hunted on a quest.” Atticus was on a roll again. “And did you know that otter poo is called spraints?” “Why do otters get their own word for poo?” Jake wondered. “I love otters, they’re so playful,” Amy said. “Spraints — what a funny word.” “Enough with the poos!” Dan yelled. Then he looked at Atticus. “I mean, it’s cool — especially about the spraints, I didn’t know that before — but I didn’t say poos.

Nya could see the questions in her mother’s face every morning: Would they be lucky again? Or was it now their turn to lose someone?

This is St. Peter’s,

A step at a time. One problem at a time—just figure out this one problem. Day by day, solving one problem at a time, Salva moved toward his goal.

To young people, I would like to say: Stay calm when things are hard or not going right with you. You will get through it when you persevere instead of quitting. Quitting leads to much less happiness in life than perseverance and hope.

Ages ago my gran knitted a sweater for my dad. He wore it and wore it and wore it right out. Then my other gran, who lives with us, unraveled it

The Japanese made a lot of new laws. One of the laws was that no Korean could be the boss of anything.

This cat is dangerous! He has, um — feline — feline spongiform halitosis! It can be fatal to humans!

America. The United States. The rumor was that about three thousand boys and young men from the refugee camps would be chosen to go live in America!

Touchrue," he muttered in disgust as he glared at the offending shrub.

Look! Look!" Jimble shouted. He raised both hands overhead, even though only one of them was glowing blue, and spoke in a gravelly roar. "I AM THE BLUE-HANDED BEASTER. KNEEL BEFORE ME OR DIE!" "Oh, for quake's sake," Raffa said, but he couldn't help laughing. "At least we know it works," Garith said.

Ah, that name again," Callian said. "When will I get to meet the mysterious Roo?" "I can take you to meet her," Kuma said with a shy smile. "Later today, if you want." "Make sure she's in the right kind of mood first," Raffa added. "If she's not, I wouldn't go anywhere near her--she can be pretty ferocious." "Shakes, you're making her sound like--like a bear or something," Callian said. Raffa and Kuma exchanged puzzled glances. "You didn't tell him?" Raffa asked. Kuma frowned a little. "I guess it never came up," she said. "What never came up?" Callian was clearly confused. "She is a bear," Kuma said. Callian shrugged. "Some folks are just grumpier than others, I guess." Raffa snorted. "No, she's a bear. A really big one." He stretched his arm overhead to indicate Roo's height. Callian looked at Raffa. "A bear" Raffa nodded Callian turned to Kuma. "A bear?' "A bear," she said. "Um, are you-- is she--" "A bear," they said together. A pause. "Okay," Callian said at least. "A bear.

forced to join the fighting, which was why their families and communities—including Salva’s schoolmaster—had sent the boys running into the bush at the first sign of fighting. Children who arrived at the refugee camp without their families were grouped together, so Salva was separated at once from the people he had traveled with. Even though they had not been kind to him, at least he had known them. Now, among strangers once again, he felt uncertain and maybe even afraid. As he walked through the camp with several other boys, Salva glanced at every face he passed. Uncle had said that no one knew where his family was for certain . . . so wasn’t there at least a chance that they might be here in the camp? Salva looked around at the masses of people stretched out as far as he could see. He felt his heart sink a little, but he clenched his hands into fists and made himself a promise. If they are here, I will find them. After so many weeks of walking, Salva found it strange to be staying in one place. During that long, terrible trek, finding a safe place to stop and stay for a while had been desperately important. But now that he was at the camp, he felt restless—almost as if he should begin walking again. The camp was safe from the war. There were no men with guns or machetes, no planes with bombs overhead. On the evening of his very first day, Salva was given a bowl of boiled maize to eat, and another one the next morning. Already things were better here than they had been during the journey. During the afternoon of the second day, Salva picked his way slowly through the crowds. Eventually, he found himself standing near the gate that was the main entrance to the camp, watching the new arrivals enter. It did not seem as if the camp could possibly hold any more, but still they kept coming: long lines of people, some emaciated, some hurt or sick, all exhausted. As Salva scanned the faces, a flash of orange caught his eye. Orange . . . an orange headscarf . . . He began pushing and stumbling past people. Someone spoke to him angrily, but he did not stop to excuse himself. He could still see the vivid spot of orange—yes, it was a headscarf—the woman’s back was to him, but she was tall, like his mother—he had to catch up, there were too many people in the way— A half-sob broke free from Salva’s lips. He mustn’t lose track of her! Chapter Twelve Southern Sudan, 2009

Ish ish AY!” It was not easy to speak clearly through a gargantuan mouthful of cheeseburger. Dan was trying to say “This is GREAT!” but the words came out filtered through ground sirloin and two slices of cheese.

Maybe, like, a fang. That would be awesome — a big ol’ wolf fang!” Honestly, the things boys think are awesome… “You’d probably love it if it had drool all over it,” Amy said.

Nellie grinned. “Dude, I am lovin’ this. First a girl pirate, and now this Nanny. It’s great, isn’t it?” she said as she glanced at Amy. “What’s so great about it?” Dan asked. “Women,” Nellie answered. “Women kicking butt all over the place.

The innocent wept. The guilty pretended.

Quitting leads to much less happiness in life than perseverance and hope.

shoulders. He seemed to know what Salva was thinking,

One step at a time . . . one day at a time. Just today—just this day to get through

Stay calm when things are hard or not going right with you. You will get through it when you persevere instead of quitting. Quitting leads to much less happiness in life than perseverance and hope. Salva Dut Rochester, New York 2010

the group and said, “I know what we need to do next.

Fight hard and fight well. But know that a quest for justice without wisdom and compassion can all too easily become cruelty.

Kaneyama,

Something bad was about to happen. Uncle had been expecting it.

Truth loves the light...It never stays buried forever.