Sometimes when you had nothing at all and it was raining and you were alone in the flat, it was wonderful to know that you could have something even though it was only a cup of black and bitter coffee...
Her time has come, answered Miss Lizzie. That's why I didn't marry Harvey - long ago when he asked me. I was afraid of 'that'. So afraid. I don't know, Miss Lizzie said. Sometimes I think it's better...
They learned no compassion from their own anguish. Thus their suffering was wasted.
But she needs me more than she needs him and I guess being needed is almost as good as being loved. Maybe better.
Brooklyn was a dream. All the things that happened there just couldn't happen. It was all dream stuff. Or was it all real and true and was it that she, Francie, was the dreamer?
She had become accustomed to being lonely. She was used to walking alone and to being considered 'different.' She did not suffer too much.
No matter where its seed fell, it made a tree which struggled to reach the sky. It grew in boarded-up lots and out of neglected rubbish heaps, and it was the only tree that grew out of cement. It grew...
Oh, the last time how clearly you see everything; as though a magnifying light had been turned on it. And you grieve because you hadn’t held it tighter when you had it every day.
Ghosts are not always those who pass through closed doors, said Mary Rommely. Katie has told how her husband used to talk to this saloon man. In all those years of the talking, Yohnny gave away pieces...
He was a baby once. He must have been sweet and clean and his mother kissed his little pink toes. Maybe when it thundered at night she came to his crib and fixed his blanket better and whispered that...
All she’d notice was that some things were strange because they reminded her of Brooklyn and that other things were strange because they were so different from Brooklyn. I guess there is nothing new,...
This is the book, then , and the book of Shakespeare. And every day you must read a page of each to your child--even though you yourself do not understand what is written down and cannot sound the wor...
Well' Francie decided, 'I guess the thing that is giving me this headache is life - and nothing else but'.
They were all slender, frail creatures with wondering eyes and soft fluttery voices. But they were all made out of thin invisible steel.
Tell the truth and write the story.
Look at everything as though you were seeing it either first time or last time.
From that time on, the world was hers for the reading. She would never be lonely again, never miss the lack of intimate friends. Books became her friends and there was one for every mood. There was po...
Look at everything as though you were seeing it for the first time or the last time. Then your time on earth will be filled with glory.
Francie was ten years old when she first found an outlet in writing. What she wrote was of little consequence. What was important was that the attempt to write stories kept her straight on the dividin...
People always think that happiness is a far away thing, something complicated and hard to get. yet, little things can make it up; a place of shelter when it rains - a cup of strong hot coffee when you...
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