Best 23 quotes of Patricia Maclachlan on MyQuotes

All the world can be found in poetry. All you need to see and hear. All the moments, good and bad, joyous and sad.

Being married to a psychologist, I realize that I learn more from imperfections.

Fact and fiction are different truths.

I have great respect for children. And I have great respect for their ability as writers.

I have to write what I can write, and writing the text of a picture book is like walking a tightrope, if you ramble off... As my friend Julius Lester says, A picture book is the essence of an experience.

I love to talk to children about making mistakes. Its important that I tell them about how I dont get it right the first time. We live in such a perfectionist society, and they see so many finished products and polished performances.

Im working on a bunch of things with my daughter Emily. In some ways, shes a smarter and better editor than I am.

I, myself, write to change my life, to make it come out the way I want it to. But other people write for other reasons: to see more closely what it is they are thinking about, what they may be afraid of. Sometimes writers write to solve a problem, to answer their own question. All these reasons are good reasons. And that is the most important thing I'll ever tell you. Maybe it is the most important thing you'll ever hear. Ever.

In a way, my childhood was one long bunch of pages... I read and read and read.

I never work from an outline, and often I dont know how the story will end.

Life is made up of circles ... Life is not a straight line ... And sometimes we circle back to a past time. But we are not the same. We are changed forever.

My greatest fear is being somewhere without a book.

There is always something to miss, no matter where you are.

What is perfect? Journey, a thing doesn't have to be perfect to be fine. That goes for a picture. That goes for life....Things can be good enough.

You should know that there are some things for which there are no answers, no matter how beautiful the words may be.

I wiped my hands on my apron and went to the window. Outside, the prairie reached out and touched the places where the sky came down. Though the winter was nearly over, there were patches of snow and ice everywhere. I looked at the long dirt road that crawled across the plains, remembering the morning that Mama had died, cruel and sunny. They had come for her in a wagon and taken her away to be buried. And then the cousins and aunts and uncles had come and tried to fill up the house. But they couldn’t.

My brother William is a fisherman, and he tells me that when he is in the middle of a fogbound sea the water is a color for which there is no name.

Poets and children," said Sylvan. "We are the same really. When you can't find a poet, find a child. Remember that.

Sometimes poetry--words--give us a small, lovely look at ourselves. And sometimes that is enough.

Sometimes, what people choose to write down on paper is more important than what they say." Caleb didn't know what Sarah meant. But I knew. I wrote in my journal every night. And when I read what I had written, I could see myself there, clearer than when I looked in the mirror. I could see all of us: Papa, who couldn't always say the things he felt; Caleb, who said everything; and Sarah, who didn't know that she had changed us all.

There are always things to miss," said Maggie. "No matter where you are.

...there are some things for which there are no answers, no matter how beautiful the words may be.

Where else," I will say, "does an old turtle crossing the path Make all the difference in the world?