Jerry Spinelli
Jerry Spinelli
Jerry Spinelli is an American writer of children's novels that feature adolescence and early adulthood. He is best known for Maniac Magee and Wringer...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionYoung Adult Author
Date of Birth1 February 1941
CityNorristown, PA
CountryUnited States of America
feelings events
Events become feelings, feelings become events
eye color empathy
We were awash in tiny attentions. Small gestures, words, empathies thought to be extinct came to life... We discovered the color of each other's eyes.
race uncomfortable humans
Or maybe you’re merely uncomfortable with uncertainty. Like the rest of the human race.
realizing
I didn't realize we were being watched. We were all being watched
laughing firsts taught
She taught me to revel. She taught me to wonder. She taught me to laugh. My sense of humor had always measured up to everyone else's; but timid introverted me, I showed it sparingly: I was a smiler. In her presence I threw back my head and laughed out loud for the first time in my life
doorways fit his-smile
His smile was so wide he’d have had to break it into sections to fit it through a doorway
individuality fit standing-out
Why fit in when you're born to stand out?
cute helping i-can
He's so cute, I can't help myself.
girl mean kissing
Many girls have been romanced under the moon, and I don’t mean to say moonlight is overrated, but few I think have known the magic of a sunrise kiss.
school no-friends persons
She laughed when there was no joke. She danced when there was no music. She had no friends, yet she was the friendliest person in school.
real together-again half
If we are destined to be together again, be happy to know you’ll be getting the real me, not some blubbering half me.
memories missing loving-you
I’ll still be missing you as much as ever. I’l still smile at the memory of you. I’ll still be - Okay, I’ll say it again - loving you, but I won’t abandon myseld for you. I cannot be faithful to you without being faithful to myself.
music summer order
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.
peer-pressure peers pressure
Peer pressure is just that: pressure.