I think of the flower in the bud: huddled, compressed, dark. Yet somehow it feels the night, knows moon from sun. It waits...waits. — Jerry Spinelli Copy Share Image
I listen to the summer symphony outside my window. Truthfully, it's not a symphony at all. There's no tune, no melody, only the same notes over and over. Chirps and tweets and trills and burples. It's as if the insect… — Jerry Spinelli Copy Share Image
“He still heard his mother's voice--"Davey"--rise like whisper-dust from unseen corners in the house, but it was no longer the only voice he heard.… — Jerry Spinelli Copy Share Image
Nobody has the time, the time cannot be owned. The time is free to everyone — Jerry Spinelli Copy Share Image
You’ll know her more by your questions than by her answers. Keep looking at her long enough. One day you might see someone you… — Jerry Spinelli Copy Share Image
“When you're inside your own story, you don't see things like a reader. You don't see your life in tidy paragraphs and chapters.” — Jerry Spinelli Copy Share Image
Nobody knows who said it first, but somebody must have: 'Kid's gotta be a maniac. — Jerry Spinelli Copy Share Image
“But feelings, they don't care about telling. They just go right on, piling on top of one another like a big sandwich.” — Jerry Spinelli Copy Share Image
“chewed time like a wad of bubble gum and stretched it across the darkness all the way to dawn, when the light at the… — Jerry Spinelli Copy Share Image
“When the sun is a bike ride away, I will hear it. It will sound like wind in treetops. I will awaken.” — Jerry Spinelli Copy Share Image
