“And worst of all,” he continued sadly, “there’s nothing for me to do, nowhere I’d care to go, and hardly anything worth seeing.” He punctuated this last thought with such a deep sigh that a house sparrow singing nearby stopped and rushed home to be with his family.

As he and his unhappy thoughts hurried along (for while he was never anxious to be where he was going, he liked to get there as quickly as possible) it seemed a great wonder that the world, which was so large, could sometimes feel so small and empty.

“I can’t see the point in learning to solve useless problems, or subtracting turnips from turnips, or knowing where Ethiopia is or how to spell February.” And, since no one bothered to explain otherwise, he regarded the process of seeking knowledge as the greatest waste of time of all.

There was once a boy named Milo who didn't know what to do with himself—not just sometimes, but always.

Editor’s note: see you back here tomorrow for page 1

His thoughts darted eagerly about as everything looked new— and worth trying. "Well, I would like to make another trip," he said, jumping to his feet; "but I really don't know when I'll have the time. There's just so much to do right here."

And, in the very room in which he sat, there were books that could take you anywhere, and things to invent, and make, and build, and break, and all the puzzle and excitement of everything he didn't know—music to play, songs to sing, and worlds to imagine and then someday make real.

Outside the window, there was so much to see, and hear, and touch—walks to take, hills to climb, caterpillars to watch as they strolled through the garden. There were voices to hear and conversations to listen to in wonder, and the special smell of each day.

He noticed somehow that the sky was a lovely shade of blue and that one cloud had the shape of a sailing ship. The tips of the trees held pale, young buds and the leaves were a rich deep green.

Where the tollbooth had been just the night before, there was now nothing at all. He searched frantically throughout the apartment, but it had vanished just as mysteriously as it had come—and in its place was another bright-blue envelope, which was addressed simply: "FOR MILO, WHO NOW KNOWS THE WAY"

"It's only six o'clock," he observed with a yawn, and then, in a moment, he made an even more interesting discovery. "And it's still today! I've been gone for only an hour!" he cried in amazement, for he'd certainly never realized how much he could do in so short a time.

The late-afternoon sun had turned now from a vivid yellow to a warm lazy orange, and it seemed almost as tired as he was. The road raced ahead in a series of gentle curves that began to look familiar, and off in the distance the solitary tollbooth appeared, a welcome sight indeed.

Or The Phantom Tollbooth. How I loved The Phantom Tollbooth! I actually should re-read that just for the fun of it. And Sideway Stories from Wayside School awakened my love of surrealism. Yes, good YA books are truly art. Where would we be without them?

Fuck Harry Potter. Go read The Phantom Tollbooth.

Spainimation / Sophiecabra@spainimation.bsky.social · last yr.

Fuck Harry Potter. Go read Earthsea.

Milo got in and, with one last look, started down the road, with everyone waving him on. "Good-by," he shouted. "Good-by. I'll be back." "Good-by," shouted Azaz. "Always remember the importance of words." "And numbers," added the Mathemagician.

"Thank you for everything you've taught me," said Milo to everybody as a tear rolled down his cheek.

"And so you must say good-by," said Rhyme, patting him gently on the cheek. "To everyone?" said Milo unhappily. He looked around slowly at all the friends he'd made, and he looked very hard so as not to forget any of them for even an instant.

"It's time to go now," said Reason, "for there is much to do." And, as she spoke, Milo suddenly remembered his home. He wanted very much to go back, yet somehow he could not bear the thought of leaving.

The Mathemagician had provided innumerable platters of division dumplings, which Milo was very careful to avoid, for, no matter how many you ate, when you finished there was more on your plate than when you began.

There was everything imaginable to eat. King Azaz had ordered a special supply of delicious words in all flavors and, for those who liked exotic foods, in all languages, too.

So many things are possible just as long as you don't know they're impossible.

"That's why," said Azaz, "there was one very important thing about your quest that we couldn't discuss until you returned." "I remember," said Milo eagerly. "Tell me now." "It was impossible," he said, looking at the Mathemagician. "Completely impossible," said the Mathemagician, looking at Azaz.

"They're shouting for you," Rhyme said with a smile. "But I could never have done it," he objected, "without everyone else's help." "That may be true," said Reason gravely, "but you had the courage to try; and what you can do is often simply a matter of what you will do."

Even the air shimmered with excitement, and shutters closed for many years were thrown open to let the brilliant sunlight shine where it hadn't shone in so long. Milo, Tock, and the very subdued Humbug sat proudly in the royal carriage with Azaz, the Mathemagician, and the two princesses.

"Henceforth," "And forthwith," "Let it be known by all men" "That Rhyme and Reason" "Reign once more in Wisdom." "And furthermore," "The boy named Milo," "The dog known as Tock," "And the insect hereinafter referred to as the Humbug" "Are hereby declared to be" "Heroes of the realm."

Cringing with fear, the monsters of Ignorance turned in flight and, with anguished cries too horrible ever to forget, returned to the damp, dark places from which they came. The Humbug sighed with relief, and Milo and the princesses prepared to greet the victorious army.

I'd like to see the massed armies of Wisdom advancing, any time now.

The Phantom Tollbooth Quotes@phantomtollbot.bsky.social · 6d ago

Milo slowly raised his weary head, and there in the horizon, for as far as the eye could see, stood the massed armies of Wisdom, the sun glistening from their swords and shields, and their bright banners slapping proudly at the breeze.

Milo slowly raised his weary head, and there in the horizon, for as far as the eye could see, stood the massed armies of Wisdom, the sun glistening from their swords and shields, and their bright banners slapping proudly at the breeze.

The demons loomed as the chase neared its end. Then, gathering themselves for one final leap, they prepared to engulf first the bug, then the boy, and lastly the dog and his two passengers. They rose as one and— And suddenly stopped, as if frozen in mid-air, unable to move, staring ahead in terror.

"But how will we get down?" groaned the Humbug, looking at the wreckage below. "There's no stairway and we're sailing higher every minute." "Well, time flies, doesn't it?" asked Milo. "On many occasions," barked Tock, jumping eagerly to his feet. "I'll take everyone down."