I listen to the summer symphony outside my window. Truthfully, it's not a symphony at all. There's no … - Jerry Spinelli

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The anti-immigrant logic has basically saturated our world. I'm staying, and I'm fighting.

Jerry Spinelli

I listen to the summer symphony outside my window. Truthfully, it's not a symphony at all. There's no tune, no melody, only the same notes over and over. Chirps and tweets and trills and burples. It's as if the insect orchestra is forever tuning its instruments, forever waiting for the maestro to tap his baton and bring them to order. I, for one, hope the maestro never comes. I love the music mess of it.

Mess, Music, Order, Summer, Truthfully

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if you learn to hate one or two persons. . . you'll soon hate millions of people.

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Live today. Not yesterday. Not tomorrow. Just today. Inhabit your moments. Don't rent them out to tomorrow.

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Peace and harmony do not require perfection. Thank goodness for that—because life so often seems to be an itch here, a glitch there, a mess waiting to happen. Harmony is flexible. It bends with imperfection. So should you.

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How much better might human communication be if words were as precious as diamonds? If each of us were allotted only 100 words per day?

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A mockingbird has moved into our neighborhood. It perches atop a telephone pole behind our backyard. Every morning it is the first thing I hear. It is impossible to be unhappy when listening to a mockingbird. So stuffed with songs it is, it can't seem to make up it's mind which to sing first, so it sings them all, a dozen different songs at once, in a dozen different voices. On and on it sings without a pause, so peppy, even frantic, as if its voice alone is keeping the world awake.

Different, Keeping, Mockingbird, Morning, Song, Voice