When You Reach Me Literature and Writing Quotes

I still think about the letter you asked me to write. It nags at me, even though you're gone and there's no one to give it to me anymore. Sometimes I work on it in my head, trying to map out the story you asked me to tell, about everything that happened this past fall and winter. It's all still there, like a movie I can watch when I want to. Which is never. (1.5)

"Still reading the same book?" Belle asked, once I had settled into my folding chair next to the cash register to read. "It's looking pretty beat-up."

"I'm not still reading it," I told her. "I'm reading it again." I had probably read it a hundred times, which was why it looked so beat up. (3.4-5)

"—and then there's Shakespeare. He invented the name Miranda, you know, for The Tempest." (3.24)

Mr. Tompkin acted like everyone in our class was part of one big happy math group, but it didn't take much to figure out there was a system: red math books for genius kids like Jay Stringer, orange ones for kids like me who did okay, and yellow ones for kids who left the room twice a week to meet with Ms. Dudley, who did "math support." Marcus's book was different – thick, with a hard cover and small type. So I guessed that even though it was blue – even farther down the rainbow than yellow – it was at least the equivalent of a red. (14.30)

I was getting annoyed. The truth is that I hate to think about other people reading my book. It's like watching someone go through the box of private stuff that I keep under my bed. (14.43)

Mr. Tompkin had left a book on my desk. He was always trying to get me to read something new. This one had a picture of a spunky-looking girl on the cover, and some buildings behind her. I pushed the spunky girl aside, pulled my book out of my desk, and opened it randomly to see where I would land. (23.24)

"You need the jacket with the hood," Mom rasped from her bed. Her voice never sounded normal until after coffee. "Look in the front closet." She seemed to think that it was really helpful to lie in bed, listening to the radio and calling out weather reports. I couldn't help thinking about how, in my book, Meg's mother had French toast waiting for Meg in the morning. She was a single mom too, with Meg's dad being held prisoner halfway across the universe. (30.2)

It was a book. Actually, it was my book. But this was a hardcover one, with a different picture on the front. I read the title out loud: "A Wrinkle in Time." And then I smiled at Richard.

"It's a first edition," Richard said. (39.6-7)

"So she goes back there, to Camazotz, and her brother is totally under Its control, and he's saying all these awful things to her. And IT is trying to suck her in too, to take over her brain. She's trying to resist, but it's hard. And then, at the last second, she figures out that there's only one thing that can defeat IT: love. IT doesn't understand love."

"Ooh," Belle said. "That's deep." (43.12-13)

Something very familiar caught my eye. It was on the bedside table, under the ugly lamp. It was my book – or maybe it was my book's twin sister, just as old and beat-up-looking as mine, but with different creases and one corner ripped off the cover. I went over and picked it up. (44.16)

I'll just hand him my letter and say, "Try not to land in the broccoli." He'll understand. He's a smart kid. (55.5)