Sharon M. Draper Quotes

Sometimes I just get tired of bowin' down and givin' up, you know?" It

Mom I can' read and the school might be open in three weaks

Finally he said, "Bad writers don't practice, Stella. It's the good ones who care enough to try, who worry about getting the words just right. You are probably better than you think.

What's Mr. Dimming's first name?" "Wallace!" We all cracked up at that.

Down to the 23rd page of double dutch!

Freedom is a delicate flower, like a pretty leaf in the air: It's hard to catch and may not be what you thought when you get it, she observed quietly.- Polly from Copper Sun

If Maria is our hugger, Gloria is our rocker. She rocks for hours in the corner under one of the dumb smiling flowers.

[A] person is so much more than the name of a diagnosis on a chart.

Do you know what courage is? I guess you don't. Do you know that the courage it took at that moment - to actually blow yourself away - was more than enough courage to keep on living?

Who Am I?
I'm a creator, a visionary, a poet. I approach the world with the eyes of an artist, the ears of a musician, and the soul of a writer. I see rainbows where others see only rain, and possibilities when others see only problems. I love spring flowers, summer's heat on my body, and the beauty of the dying leaves in the fall. Classical music, art museums, and ballet are sources of inspiration, as well as blues music and dim cafes. I love to write; words flow easily from my fingertips, and my heart beats rapidly with excitement as an idea becomes a reality on the paper in front of me. I smile often, laugh easily, and I weep at pain and cruelty. I'm a learner and a seeker of knowledge, and I try to take my readers along on my journey. I am passionate about what I do. I learned to dream through reading, learned to create dreams through writing, and learned to develop dreamers through teaching. I shall always be a dreamer. Come dream with me.

But Penny was born perfect and copper-bright, just like her name. From the minute she came home from the hospital, she was a really happy baby. Mom truly did carry a little bundle of joy into the house. But

And the machine speaks the words I've never been able to say. I love you.

All the salve in the world can't cure what gets broken in somebody's soul -Mama

Words.

I'm surrounded by thousands of words. Maybe millions.

Cathedral. Mayonnaise. Pomegranate.
Mississippi. Neapolitan. Hippopotamus.
Silky. Terrifying. Iridescent.
Tickle. Sneeze. Wish. Worry.

Words have always swirled around me like snowflakes - each one delicate and different, each one melting untouched in my hands.

Deep within me, words pile up in huge drifts. Mountains of phrases and sentences and connected ideas. Clever expressions. Jokes. Love songs.

From the time I was really little - maybe just a few months old - words were like sweet, liquid gifts, and I drank them like lemonade. I could almost taste them. They made my jumbled thoughts and feelings have substance. My parents have always blanketed me with conversation. They chattered and babbled. They verbalized and vocalized. My father sang to me. My mother whispered her strength into my ear.

Every word my parents spoke to me or about me I absorbed and kept and remembered. All of them.

I have no idea how I untangled the complicated process of words and thought, but it happened quickly and naturally. By the time I was two, all my memories had words, and all my words had meanings.

But only in my head.

I have never spoken one single word. I am almost eleven years old.

I believe in me. And my family does. And Mrs. V.
It's the rest of the world I'm not so sure of.

By the way, there is nothing cute about a pink wheelchair. Pink doesn't change a thing.

You know, children, quilts, like stories, are part of our heritage, part of our culture. Some quilts even tell stories. Our past is a patchwork of memories and tales. You all keep that forever tucked in your pockets, you hear?

Stella's father hesitated. "Georgia supports me, but she was a mite trembly this morning. I brought Stella though."He squeezed her shoulders affectionately. "I don't want to just tell her about bravery--I want to show her what it looks like.

She talked to me like I was just like any other student, not a kid in a wheelchair.

I like how a book feels when I turn the pages, and how the ink smells - almost like something good to eat.

Teenage girls today need strong, positive role models that can show them how to be independent thinkers and confident decision-makers. Dana is proud and self-confident, which is good, but she does not always make wise decisions. Rather than make her a super woman, I balanced her with difficult situations that could have been handled better. Her strength, however, shines through. This way, a young woman can read the book, discuss Dana's actions, and reflect on the decision-making in her own life.

I have learned to be patient with people. Once again I point to Rose's computer and then to the words me too.

It's hard to imagine you and Daddy as ever being young and foolish. I figured you just appeared one day, fully grown and knowing all the answers, she teased.

There's an unseen river of communication that forever flows - dark and powerful. Tonight was about food and laughter, yes. But it was also about navigatin' that river." A

Twenty minutes later, just as Stella thought she was going to collapse with worry and anticipation, her father, the pastor, and Mr. Spencer emerged from the polling station, smiles lighting their faces. And now she saw what she'd expected to see earlier in Mr. Spencer's eyes. They were on fire.

Then let us pray," Pastor Patton said firmly. Stella noticed a few townspeople slowing down as they passed by; none of the faces looked pleasant. She closed her eyes. "Dear Lord," said the pastor, we bow down before you as we stand up for dignity. Be with us and protect us both morning, noon and night. Amen.

I tried so hard, I farted! Mrs.

My parents have always blanketed me with conversation.

I hate that word, by the way. Retarded. I

Without the local library in my neighborhood, I don't think I would have grown up to be a writer or a teacher.

Ashes don't necessarily signify an end

What would you do if you could fly?" Mrs. V asks as she glances from the bird to me.
"Is that on the quiz?" I ask, grinning as I type.
"I think we've studied just about everything else." Mrs. V chuckles.
"I'd be scared to let go," I type.
"Afraid you'd fall?" she asks.
"No. Afraid it would feel so good, I'd just fly away.

I don't want it!" I finally type. Then, turning the volume as loud as it will go, I add, "You deserve it!"
Still laughing, I click on the power to my chair, do a smooth turn, and roll myself out of the classroom.

Words have always swirled around me like snowflakes-each one delicate and different, each one melting untouched in my hands.

It's like I've always had a painted musical sound track playing background to my life. I can almost hear colors and smell images when music is played.

One series of notes, high and delicate, sang of a sweet moonlight kiss gone sour; another line of music rippled with regret over opportunities forever lost.

by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor and The Giver by Lois Lowry. And

Teachers must be celebrated for moving civilization from ignorance to enlightenment, from apathy to responsibility.

Stella expected to see fire in Mr. Spencer's eyes, fire like the flames that had made tinder of his house. Instead his eyes were soft, gentle, and brown like the earth. "I have to show them they didn't destroy me," he said simply.

(Don't take life as a ADVANTAGE take it SERIOUSLY because it's not a game)

Earthquake report: Call the paramedics. A girl in fifth grade is about to explode.

We've got to think positive thoughts.

Don't aim for riches, child. Aim for happiness. -Mrs. Mills

Step, fart. Step, fart. Step, fart.

I believe in the goodness of people, sir, and the power of young folks like us to overcome what grown-ups like you might not be able to.

―Sylvia Patterson

There is an unseen river of communication that forever flows
dark and powerful.

She's, like, really, really beautiful, but I don't think she sees that when she looks in the mirror.

I can't talk. I can't walk. I can't feed myself or take myself to the bathroom. Big bummer.

Thoughts need words. Words need a voice.

Dad loves cheese. It doesn't agree with his digestive system very well, though. Dad also has the loudest, stinkiest farts in creation. I don't know how he manages to control them at work, or even if he does, but when he'd get home, he'd let them loose. They'd start as he walked up the stairs. Step, fart. Step, fart. Step, fart. I'd be laughing by the time he got to my room, and he'd lean over my bed and kiss me. His breath always smelled like peppermints. When

A library filled with thousands of books waiting for a thirsty kid like me to gulp them down.

Earthquake report: Expect big aftershocks - nothing like this has ever been seen before.

As another stack of two-by-fours landed by her porch, Stella couldn't help but think about how folks had come together when Spoon Man showed up. This time, however, they managed to do a cook-up for a whole house! Nobody had everything, but everybody had something to offer.

Why are some people mean and some people nice?"

"I don't rightly know...But my job is to teach all of you to be the best people you can be...

A couple of weeks later my dad and I were in the car and we passed by a McDonald's. I screeched and kicked and pointed like Godzilla was coming down the street. Dad must have thought I was nuts. Finally, he said, "Would you like to stop and get a Big Mac and a shake for dinner tonight as a treat?

Fifth grade is probably pretty rocky for lots of kids. Homework. Never being quite sure if you're cool enough. Clothes. Parents. Wanting to play with toys and wanting to be grown up all at the same time. Underarm odor. I guess I have all that, plus about a million different layers of other stuff to deal with. Making people understand what I want. Worrying about what I look like. Fitting in. Will a boy ever like me? Maybe I'm not so different from everyone else after all.

Stella wondered how silence could be so loud.

I just sit there. The morning started out like crystal, but the day has turned to broken glass.

But I'll always love you, and I'll always miss you and I'll never forget that It's okay to put dragons in the jungle and tears on a tiger

She read it over one last time, not really satisfied, but it was the truth. Even if it still had some scratch-outs.

Long as you remember, ain't nothin' really gone.

I was just thinking about me having children. Or being a grandma!" She giggled. "Think I'll be fat and have gray hair?"

"I sure hope so," her father said, laughing himself.

Music is powerful, my young friends," she said. "It can connect us to memories. It can influence our mood and our responses to problems we might face.

Franklin Delano Roosevelt is the new president. He won in a landslide. Landslide makes me think of rocks and dirt falling down a mountain. Not sure what that has to do with an election. But maybe it does. My papa voted. He is a pebble. Lots of pebbles make a landslide, right? His vote counted.

Roosevelt will move into the White House and will have a fine supper to celebrate, I guess. Papa had cornbread and buttermilk and beans with his friends at my house. I bet papa enjoyed his celebration more.

Her mother gave her a piece of warm biscuit and a hug before they left. "Stones don't cry, child. Remember that," was all she said.

I know people will say that it's because of the accident that I came back to church-well, they're right. I'm not too proud to know when a problem is bigger than I am.

Look at that amazing display of sparkle! And feel that wind? It's trying to tickle your toes,

What your body looks like has nothing to do with how well your brain works!

I felt like a real girl.

What's the sense of living if you're ashamed of yourself? Stella's father said almost to himself.

Ingredients 1 large bottle white grape juice 4 drops red food color (or blue food color for the blue soda) 1 two-liter bottle of 7-Up (or similar product) 2 cups strawberry sherbet (or blueberry sherbet for the blue soda) Directions 1. Add food coloring to the white grape juice. 2. Pour the juice and the soda into a large pitcher. 3. Add sherbet and serve.