“I spent hours dreaming of the sunshine, the way it soaked into the city walls and made the yellow stones hot to lean on hours after the day had ended” — Megan Whalen Turner Copy Share Image
“Do you know the name of these yellow stones, Mr. Pond?” asked Violet. She picked one up and gave it to him. “No, I don’t know much about stones,” he said. “This yellowish rock makes a fine powder. I know… — Gertrude Chandler Warner Copy Share Image
