We'll Leave Now, So That

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 Dividing Line Between Truth And Fiction. If She Had Not Found This Outlet In Writing, She Might Have Grown Up To Be A Tremendous Liar.

Look At Everything Always As Though You Were Seeing It Either For The First Or Last Time: Thus Is Your Time On Earth Filled With Glory.

The Neighborhood Stores Are An Important Part Of A City Child's Life.

Yes, When I Get Big And Have My Own Home, No Plush Chairs And Lace Curtains For Me. And No Rubber Plants. I'll Have A Desk Like This In My Parlor And White Walls And A Clean Green Blotter Every Saturday Night And A Row Of Shining Yellow Pencils Always Sharpened For Writing And A Golden-brown Bowl With A Flower Or Some Leaves Or Berries Always In It And Books . . . Books . . . Books. . . .

People Looking Up At Her--at Her Smooth Pretty Vivacious Face--had No Way Of Knowing About The Painfully Articulated Resolves Formulating In Her Mind.