Jodi Picoult Quotes

My mom used to tell me stories at night, read books to me - and I read 'em over and over and over again. And you know what I learned from that? I went back and looked at everything - Why do I like reading the same stories over and over and over again? What, was I some kind of nincompoop? No - the narrative gave me connection with my mom.

The smell of loving is a difficult one to describe, but if you think of the times when someone has held you close and made you safe, you will remember how it smells just as well as I do.

I will defend the importance of bedtime stories to my last gasp.

My father used to tell me stories before I fell asleep. When the children would gather, at a certain point, I had a tendency to make up my own elementary variations on stories I had heard, or to invent totally new ones.

You get to relive your childhood when you have a baby and you see these toys and these books you read when you were little - the innocence that you are able to maintain because you have to find that again in order to connect with your child keeps you in a special state of mind.

Mexico is only a memory of childhood safety.

I think storytelling is all about children. We human beings love to hear stories being told - and it first happens when you're a kid.

You can't escape the taste of the food you had as a child. In times of stress, what do you dream about? Your mother's clam chowder. It's security, comfort. It brings you home.

If I'm made to pick one transcendent reading experience, then it was listening to Miss Sarzin as - if we'd been very, very good - she read the next chapter of 'The Hobbit' aloud to us.

My mother used to sit at the foot of my bed, and she would share her dreams with me.

I love stories. I loved stories when I was a kid. My mom read stories to me all the time.

Reading was a huge part of my life as a child - we were a family of storytellers.

When I was a child, we used to look forward to the end of the day when we would hear another ten minutes of a story.

'House' was such a special part of my life.

I have very vivid memories of my mother reading to us as kids.

People enjoy being read to, beginning from when they're little.

To the children of yesterday, who have grown up and become parents, and to the children of today, who perhaps shout 'Tottigol,' I'd like to think that, for you, my career has become a fairytale for you to pass on.

I was sort of a loner as a kid, so radio was where I turned for companionship. I loved the music and how the DJs talked about the artists and used words to paint pictures to evoke emotion.

I think it's human nature that if we don't have our own family, we will create a family, because it's human nature, and it's that element of trust and dependency and love and all of those sort of things.

Go home, Gideon. Please." "I am home." He caught me from behind and buried his face in mu soaked hair. "I'm with you.

I always wanted to tell stories. From the time I had 20 cents or a quarter in my pocket, I could peddle my old Rambler 500 down to the corner store and buy comic books.

Bedtime stories were definitely a big part of my life because I was just so excited my father was talking to me.

Never in his life had Edward been cradled like a baby. Abilene had not done it. Nor had Nellie. And most certainly, Bull had not. It was a singular sensation to be held so gently and yet so fiercely, to be stared down at with so much love. Edward felt the whole of his china body flood with warmth. (page 128)

[After my mother died, I had a feeling that was] not unlike the homesickness that always filled me for the first few days when I went to stay at my grandparents'' house, and even, I was stunned to discover, during the first few months of my freshman year at college. It was not really the home my mother had made that I yearned for. But I was sick in my soul for that greater meaning of home that we understand most purely when we are children, when it is a metaphor for all possible feelings of security, of safety, of what is predictable, gentle, and good in life.

I wanna be inside your heaven Take me to the place you cry from Where the storm blows your way I wanna be the earth that holds you Every bit of air you're breathin' in A soothin' wind I wanna be inside your heaven