With a rush, a kangaroo bounded out onto the beach, paused to look at them, then bounced off down the beach, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. 

Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. He shrugged. There's no verse for the middle of the day. Because there wasn't supposed to be a red sky at two in the afternoon.

She stopped and went back to reread one part: the part where he said he was certain Earthy's twin would be discovered in the next year.

Just then, the wail arose, that same grief-stricken keening of the day before. It's the same time as yesterday!

If you'd seen some of the things I've seen? You'd believe in just about anything.

Peter's family moved often, so making friends was difficult.

He added new lists to his books every year.

Linnaeus put the names of animals and plants in categories, and that made nature much easier to study.

The main character in the book lived in Switzerland, France and England. He also became a doctor who worked with the poor people.

When Peter moved back to London, he joined science societies and attended lectures given by famous thinkers and innovators. 

Lindbergh is driven off to the American embassy.
He answers more questions about his flight.
He has not slept in over sixty hours.

He must chart his course carefully. 
The slightest movement could send him miles off course and risk the fuel supply.

He gazes down in the morning light.
How far off Paris seems – across the long ocean.

He clicks on the engine. He listens as it catches, gurgles, and roars.
A few friends are here to say good-bye.

Beside him in the cockpit is a little book. 
He keeps a diary as he goes: all day long, hour by hour.
It is as if he were speaking to himself.

He is closer to Europe than America.
There is no turning back, only moving forward.

On the boat, we head straight for the front, where none of us usually stand. I want to be the first to see Al Capone's mom waiting at the dock at Fort Mason.

In English class Miss Bimp pairs Scout and me together for a journalism project. And just like that, we're friends again. We start talking about who we think will win the World Series this year.

It takes longer than I thought it would to get to the gap. The hill is steep and slippery with rocks and shale, land sliding down as I go up. But the guard can't see me here. A chink in the hill blocks his view.

I spin and run toward the voice. Natalie? I crash the thicket, and then I see her. Natalie sitting on a rock with someone. A man. He is wearing a denim shirt and denim pants. A con. Natalie is sitting with a con. 

The next morning I get up and pull a clean shirt off the hanger. As I shoot my arm through the sleeve, I hears something crackle. I dig my fingers in the pocket and pull out a torn scrap of brown paper. It's folded in half and in half again. Inside is one word scribbled hastily in pencil and underlined twice. Done, it says.