All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten by Robert Fulghum

'' I realized then that I already know most of what's necessary to live a meaningful life- that it isn't all that complicated. I know it. And have known it for a long, long time. ''

All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten is an anthology of ''stuff'' as the writer puts it, of his own personal notes and reflections on life as they oozed out throughout the years. Just like a grandma's soothing wisdom to her grandchildren, Fulghum offers his words to the aching and restless of this world. With timeless concepts of the human experience, such as death and companionship, this book is a warm blanket for the coldness of existence. Below are some of the most heartfelt extracts that simmer nostalgia for the old times and especially, the precious years of childhood.

Here's the drainpipe- a long tunnel going up toward the light. The spider doesn't even think about it- just goes. Disaster befalls it- rain, flood, powerful forces. And the spider is knocked down and out beyond where it started. Does the spider say, ''To hell with that?'' No. Sun comes out- clears things up- dries off the spider.

Yelling at living things does tend to kill the spirit in them. Sticks and stones may break our bones, but words will break our hearts.

I 'm a sentimentalist about the wonders of the human hand and mind. And when I find evidence that it can still hold its own in the face of the wizardry of the electronic circuity of little chips, I am pleased.

There are places we all come from- deep- rooty- common places- that make us who we are. And we disdain them or treat them lightly at out peril. We turn our backs on them at the risk of self- contempt. There is a sense in which we need to go home again- and can go home again. Not to recover home, no. But to sanctify memory.

There are moments when I look across the room- amid the daily ordinariness of life- and see the person I call my wife and friend and companion. And I understand why Charles Boyer did what he did. It really is possible to love someone that much. I know. I'm certain of it.

The children are grown up now. They still love me, though it's harder sometimes to get direct evidence. And it's love that's complicated by age and knowledge and confusing values. Love, to be sure. But no simple.

I sat there in the rain, my light still shining into the trysting chamber. And I pondered. Why is it that love and life so often have to be carried forth with so much pain and strain and mess? I ask you, why is that?

Olly- olly- oxen- free. The kids out in the street are hollering the cry that says '' Come on in, wherever you are. It's a new game. '' And so say I. To all those who have hid too good. Get found, kid! Olly-olly-oxen-free.

You will continue to read stories of crookedness and corruption- of policemen who lie and steal, doctors who reap where the do not sew, politicians on the take. Don't be misled. They are news because they are the exceptions.

I remember riding home on a summer's eve in the back of an ancient Ford pickup truck, with two eight- year-old cousins for company and my uncle Roscoe at the wheel. We'd been swimming and we were sitting on the inner tubes for comfort, and had a couple of old quilts and an elderly dog wrapped close for warmth. We were eating chocolate cookies and drinking sweet milk out of a Mason jar, and singing our lungs out with unending verses of ''Ninety- nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall''. With stars and moon and God o' erhead, and sweet dreams at the end of the journey home. <3

End of part one.

* Art made by Charlie Mackesy/ Source: Pinterest.