Of Course They Needed To Care. It

It Was Almost December, And Jonas Was Beginning To Be Frightened.

Ellen Had Said That Her Mother Was Afraid Of The Ocean, That It Was Too Cold And Too Big. The Sky Was, Too, Thought Annemarie. The Whole World Was: Too Cold, Too Big. And Too Cruel.

There Will Always Be A Place For Bunnies To Talk In Rhyme, But That's Not What I Do.

So Actually, There Could Be Parents-of-the-parents-of-the-parents-of-the Parents?

I Write Books Because I Have Always Been Fascinated By Stories And Language, And Because I Love Thinking About What Makes People Tick. Writing A Story... 'the Giver' Or Any Other... Is Simply An Exploration Of The Nature Of Behavior: Why People Do What They Do, How It Affects Others, How We Change And Grow, And What Decisions We Make Along The Way.