Kate DiCamillo Quotes

I was born in Philadelphia and currently live in Minneapolis. I write for both children and adults.

There ain't no way you can hold onto something that wants to go, you understand? You can only love what you got while you got it.

Once upon a time," he said out loud to the darkness. He said these words because they were the best, the most powerful words that he knew and just the saying of them comforted him.

There is nothing sweeter in this sad world than the sound of someone you love calling your name.

When we read together, we connect. Together, we see the world. Together, we see one another.

It is truly excellent to have someone believe in you and your ability to write. But I think it is just as helpful to have people who don't believe in you, people who mock you, people who doubt you, people who enrage you. Fortunately, there is never a shortage of this type of person in the world ... write for yourself. Write for the story. And write, also, for all of the people who doubt you. Write for all those people who are not brave enough to do this grand and wondrous thing themselves. Let them motivate you.

Reading should not be presented to children as a chore or duty. It should be offered to them as a precious gift.

The undoing is almost always more difficult than the doing.

My favorite six letter word is always because it promises so much. My favorite five letter word is never because it insists on contradicting the promise. My favorite four letter word is once because it says it happened then. My favorite three letter word is yes because I’m just now learning to say it to my heart. My favorite two letter word is if because it makes all things possible like this: If not always If not never Then once. Yes.

You must be filled with expectancy. You must be awash in hope. You must wonder who will love you, whom you will love next.

It is important that you say what you mean to say. Time is too short. You must speak the words that matter.

The world is dark, and light is precious. Come closer, dear reader. You must trust me. I am telling you a story.

... every time you look at the world and the people in it closely, lovingly, imaginatively, it changes you. The world, under the microscope of your attention, opens up like a beautiful, strange flower and gives itself back to you in ways you could never imagine.

the story is not a pretty one. there is violence in it. And cruelty. But stories that are not pretty have a certain value, too, I suppose. Everything, as you well know (having lived in this world long enough to have figured out a thing or two for yourself), cannont always be sweetness and light.

There ain't a body, be it mouse or man, that ain't made better by a little soup.

The sound of the king's music made Despereaux's soul grow large and light inside of him.

Love is ridiculous. But love is also wonderful. And powerful. And Despereaux's love for the Princess Pea would prove, in time, to be all of these things: powerful, wonderful, and ridiculous.

At the thought of being eaten by rats, Despereaux forgot about being brave. He forgot about not being a disappointment. He felt himself heading into another faint. But his mother, who had an excellent sense of dramatic timing, beat him to it; she executed a beautiful, flawless swoon, landing right at Despereaux's feet.

I want to remind people of the great and profound joy that can be found in stories, and that stories can connect us to each other, and that reading together changes everybody involved.

I am single and childless, but I have lots of friends and I am an aunt to three lovely children.

You can always trust a dog that likes peanut butter.

Each new friendship can make you a new person, because it opens up new doors inside of you.

So many miracles have not yet happened.

Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark.

We appreciate the complicated and wonderful gifts you give us in each other. And we appreciate the task you put down before us, of loving each other the best we can, even as you love us.

If you have no intention of loving or being loved, the whole journey is pointless.

She was working to remind herself of who she was. She was working to remember that somewhere in another place entirely she was known and loved.

That is surely the truth, at least for now. But perhaps you have not noticed: the truth is forever changing.

I thought I was going nowhere. Now I can see there was a pattern.

My goal is two pages a day, five days a week. I never want to write, but I'm always glad that I have done it. After I write, I go to work at the bookstore.

I write two pages - that's all I write. It takes me about an hour. I've learned that's all I'm capable of and to push myself beyond that is foolhardy. It's a very delicate thing, and I will not abuse it. So I write two pages, then I get up from the computer.

Allow me to congratulate you on your very astute powers of observation.

I will be brave, thought Despereaux. I will try to be brave like a knight in shining armour. I will be brave for the Princess Pea.

There are those hearts, reader, that never mend again once they are broken. Or if they do mend, they heal themselves in a crooked and lopsided way, as if sewn together by a careless craftsman. Such was the fate of Chiaroscuro. His heart was broken. Picking up the spoon and placing it on his head, speaking of revenge, these things helped him to put his heart together again. But it was, alas, put together wrong.

It distresses me that parents insist that their children read or make them read. I think the best way for children to treasure reading is for them to see the adults in their lives reading for their own pleasure.

It's hard not to immediately fall in love witha dog who has a good sense of humor.

I always go to the Agriculture Building, where they make apple cider popsicles for a dollar.

At least Lester had the decency to weep at his act of perfidy. Reader, do you know what 'perfidy' means? I have a feeling you do, based on the scene that unfolded here. But you should look up the word in your dictionary, just to be sure.

A friend of mine said Winn-Dixie is the way that people want the world to be and Tiger Rising is the way that it is.

But still, here are the words Despereaux Tilling spoke to his father. He said, "I forgive you, Pa!" And he said those words because he sensed that it was the only way to save his heart, to stop it from breaking in two. Despereaux, reader, spoke those words to save himself.

Reader, you must know that an interesting fate (sometimes involving rats, sometimes not) awaits almost everyone, mouse or man, who does not conform.

There are hearts, reader, that never mend again once they are broken. Or if they do mend, they heal themselves in a crooked and lopsided way, as if sewn together by a careless craftsman.

I'm at the mercy of whatever character comes into my head.

Did you think that rats do not have hearts? Wrong. All living things have a heart. And the heart of any living thing can be broken.

My favorite food is deep-fried ravioli. I always get that every year.

I grew up in Florida, and I wanted to go home and I couldn't. I didn't have the money. The book [The Tiger Rising] was a way to go home.

Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark. Begin at the beginning. Tell Gregory a story. Make some light.

But, reader, there is no comfort in the word "farewell," even if you say it in French. "Farewell" is a word that,in any language, is full of sorrow. It is a word that promises absolutely nothing.

Every well-written book is a light for me. When you write, you use other writers and their books as guides in the wilderness.

Despereaux marveled at his own bravery. He admired his own defiance. And then, reader, he fainted.