My Mother Raised Me To Be A

Books Are Living Things And Their Task Lies In Their Vows Of Silence. You Touch Them As They Quiver With A Divine Pleasure. You Read Them And They Fall Asleep To Happy Dreams For The Next 10 Years. If You Do Them The Favor Of Understanding Them, Of Taking In Their Portions Of Grief And Wisdom, Then They Settle Down In Contented Residence In Your Heart.

It Is The Secret Life That Sustains Me Now, And As I Reach The Top Of That Bridge I Say It In A Whisper, I Say It As A Prayer, As Regret, And As Praise. I Can't Tell You Why I Do It Or What It Means, But Each Night When I Drive Toward My Southern Home And My Southern Life, I Whisper These Words: 'lowenstein, Lowenstein.

There Are No Verdicts To Childhood, Only Consequences, And The Bright Freight Of Memory.

(you) Don't Leave The Chicken To Watch The Feed.

The Most Powerful Words In English Are, 'tell Me A Story.'