Laura Bazal

“III. I am looking at that photo of the three of us. a. Just a few hours after delivery i. we are so ruddy-skinned ii. right out of the gate iii. blank slates b. Jason is holding the baby c. Our expressions seem to say i. Here he is! ii. Our first baby! iii. The world’s first baby! iv. All the other babies who exist are rumors, vague versions of a baby! v. Ours is the only real baby! d. This photo was taken two decades ago i. This was when I still had to look up the pediatrician’s phone number ii. This was when, filling out forms, I’d catch myself writing Ann, my own mom’s name, in the space for mother. IV. I’d like to be deliberate about what you might associate me with. a. Some already associate me with a yellow umbrella i. That’s fine by me ii. I like that b. I’m going to toss out another everyday item that also feels good: a doorknob c. Doorknob = i. small ii. give me your hand iii. come on in.”
― Amy Krouse Rosenthal, Textbook Amy Krouse Rosenthal

“Apparently the rules are that a sentence can’t come right out and tell its writer what it is or wants to be, so the sentence gives the writer little clues, charade-style. The writer just keeps churning/blurting things out, groping at the answer, trying out every possible assemblage. It’s a sentence about a man! It’s a sentence about a woman! About a house? It’s a long sentence. It’s a short sentence? It’s a sentence connected to another sentence by an ellipsis! Three syllables, first syllable starts with L. Um . . . luminous! Oh, second syllable starts with an L. Alacrity? The sentence is elegant and light! The sentence has something to do with a pear? Forget it, I have no idea. Start over.”
― Amy Krouse Rosenthal, Textbook Amy Krouse Rosenthal

“It can neither be concealed nor overstated: These types of things genuinely interest and delight me. One small wordplay discovery—say, figuring out that an anagram for maker is me, AKR—will make my whole day.”
― Amy Krouse Rosenthal, Textbook Amy Krouse Rosenthal

“Davy Keith, don't you know that it is very wrong of you to be eating that jam, when you were told never to meddle with anything in that closet?"

"Yes, I knew it was wrong," admitted Davy uncomfortably, "but plum jam is awful nice, Anne. I just peeped in and it looked so good I thought I'd take just a weeny taste. I stuck my finger in. . ." Anne groaned. . ."and licked it clean. And it was so much gooder than I'd ever thought that I got a spoon and just sailed in."

Anne gave him such a serious lecture on the sin of stealing plum jam that Davy became conscience stricken and promised with repentant kisses never to do it again.

"Anyhow, there'll be plenty of jam in heaven, that's one comfort," he said complacently.

Anne nipped a smile in the bud.

"Perhaps there will. . .if we want it," she said, "But what makes you think so?"

"Why, it's in the catechism," said Davy.

"Oh, no, there is nothing like that in the catechism, Davy."

"But I tell you there is," persisted Davy. "It was in that question Marilla taught me last Sunday. `Why should we love God?' It says, `Because He makes preserves, and redeems us.' Preserves is just a holy way of saying jam."

"I must get a drink of water," said Anne hastily. When she came back it cost her some time and trouble to explain to Davy that a certain comma in the said catechism question made a great deal of difference in the meaning.”
― L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea