Katherine Hannigan (born 1962) is a children's and young adults' writer.
In the morning I'm like a snake in the spring: I need to lie out on a warm rock and let the sun sink into me before I can start wiggling around and get on with the day.
And all the best words together couldn't hold the happiness.
We don't own the earth. We are the earth's caretakers. . . we take care of it and all the things on it. And when we're done with it, it should be left better than we found it.
Sadness is a powerful foe, maybe harder to keep down than happiness.
Apologizing is like spring cleaning.
I believe good plans are the best way to maximize fun, avoid disaster, and possibly, save the world. I spend a lot of my time making them.
. . . if a child waited to speak until all the grown-ups settled down and gave her some room to say her piece, the most important things would never get said.
I closed my eyes, put my right hand on top of the book, and passed it lightly across the cover. It was cool and smooth like a stone from the bottom of the brook, and it stilled me. A whole other world is inside there, I thought to myself, and that's where I want to be.
It thought about the magic that happens when you tell a story right, and everybody who hears it not only loves the story, but they love you a little bit, too, for telling it so well. Like I love Ms. Washington, in spite of myself, the first time I heard her. When you hear somebody read a story well, you can't help but think there's some good inside them, even if you don't know them.
. . . how do you run and play when you feel like there are bricks of the heaviest sadness weighing down every part of your body? How do you laugh and talk when there are no laughs left inside of you?
There's more than one way to tell each other things, and there's more than one way to listen, too.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and filled myself up with the breeze from the valley. Then I let it out slow so it could get back to its travels, with a little bit of me added to it.
. . . all of a sudden I felt filled up again, so that my heart might come up my throat. And I was thinking how that can come over you, out of nowhere, and if it wasn't such a fine feeling, it might almost be frightening. Like there's more love and good thoughts and powerful things inside of you than one body can hold.
I know it's hard to not do well at something, and I know it's hard to need help.
There is never enough time for fun.
. . . when your heart changes, you change, and you have to make new plans.
I was saying the right things, but not the really true things.
I just loved making words into stories by the sound of my voice.