The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane

by Kate DiCamillo

She shone as bright as the stars on a moonless night.

“What’s the point of him then?” said Martin. “The point is that he is Edward,”

I have found it much more agreeable to be lost in the company of others. My name is Bull.

Perhaps, he thought, it is not too late, after all, for me to be saved.

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.

He was hugged half to death and it felt good.

If you have no intention of loving or being loved, then the whole journey is pointless.