“Harrison wrote a two-page poem about his deep feelings of loss when his dog Filbert died, and Mrs. Minerva, the creative writing teacher, gave it a B-minus. Do you know what that does to a a person to get a B-minus in Grief?”

“Huevos up. Swing up to the window, swing back to Al B. Hall, who says, "Bless you," and would I get him a bottle of Satan's Red-Hot Revenge for the eggs?Sure thing, Pastor.”

“What in the world are we going to do with you?' Mrs. Ritter asked.I could think of a few things.Take it easy on me.Teach me different.Care about me just a little.So many times that year I wanted to shout,'It's not like I'm waking up in the morning and trying to mess up. I just don't get it!”

“She stamped the book and gave it to me. "You bring it back in three weeks."I held it over my heart. Mrs. Worth smiled. "That's where a book should be carried.”

“You know where we got stuck? We were looking for faithfull, loving and perfect relationships-males who were always glad to see us." "So?" "We already have that!" "What do you mean?" "We've got dogs!”

“If you can't find an answer at the mall or the library, what does that say about the world?”

“They marched. Not for themselves. They marched to remember the ones who didn't make it back. They marched because seeing so much loss can teach you about life. they marched because we're all fighting a war whether we know it or not...a war for our minds and souls and what we believe in.”