There Had To Be Dark

She Told Papa About It. He Made Her Stick Out Her Tongue And He Felt Her Wrist. He Shook His Head Sadly And Said, "you Have A Bad Case, A Very Bad Case." "of What?" "growing Up.

Oh, I Wish I Was Young Again When Everything Seemed So Wonderful!

It's A Beautiful Religion And I Wish I Understood It More. No, I Don't Want To Understand It All. It's Beautiful Because It's Always A Mystery. Sometimes I Say I Don't Believe In God And Jesus And Mary. I'm A Bad Catholic Because I Miss Mass Once In A While And I Grumble When, At Confession, I Get A Heavy Penance For Something I Couldn't Help Doing. But Good Or Bad, I Am A Catholic And I'll Never Be Anything Else. Of Course, I Didn't Ask To Be Born Catholic, No More Than I Asked To Be Born American. But I'm Glad It Turned Out That I'm Both These Things.

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?

The Library Was A Little Old Shaby Place. Francie Thought It Was Beautiful. The Feeling She Had About It Was As Good As The Feeling She Had About Church. She Pushed Open The Door And Went In. She Liked The Cmbined Smell Of Worn Leather Bindings, Library Past And Freshly Inked Stamping Pads Better Than She Liked The Smell Of Burning Incense At High Mass.