It Takes A Lot Of Doing To

Suffering Is Also Good, It Makes A Person Rich In Charachter.

Oh, Magic Hour, When A Child First Knows She Can Read Printed Words.

Serene Was A Word You Could Put To Brooklyn New York. Especially In The Summer Of 1912. Somber As A Word Was Better. But It Did Not Apply To Williamsburg Brooklyn. Prairie Was Lovely And Shenandoah Had A Beautiful Sound But You Couldn't Fit Those Words Into Brooklyn. Serene Was The Only Word For It Especially On A Saturday Afternoon In Summer.

It Was The Last Time She’d See The River From That Window. The Last Time Of Anything Has The Poignancy Of Death Itself. This That I See Now, She Thought, To See No More This Way. 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.

She Had Had The Pain; It Had Been Like Being Boiled Alive In Scalding Oil And Not Being Able To Die To Get Free Of It