Forgiveness Is A Gift Of High Value.

She Had Heard Papa Sing So Many Songs About The Heart; The Heart That Was Breaking - Was Aching - Was Dancing -was Heavy Laden - That Leaped For Joy - That Was Heavy In Sorrow - That Turned Over - That Stood Still. She Really Believed The Heart Actually Did Those Things.

But This Tree In The Yard-this Tree That Men Chopped Down...this Tree That They Built A Bonfire Around, Trying To Burn Up It's Stump-this Tree Lived! It Lived! And Nothing Could Destroy It.

You Won't Die, Francie. You Were Born To Lick This Rotten Life.

There Is Here, What Is Not In The Old Country. In Spite Of Hard, Unfamiliar Things, There Is Here - Hope. In The Old Country, A Man Can Be No More Than His Father, Providing He Works Hard. If His Father Was A Carpenter, He May Be A Carpenter. He Many Not Be A Teacher Or A Priest. He May Rise - But Only To His Father's State. In The Old Country, A Man Is Given To The Past. Here He Belongs To The Future. In This Land, He May Be What He Will, If He Has The Good Heart And The Way Of Working Honestly At The Right 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?