She Had Had The Pain; It Had

She Was Made Up Of More, Too. She Was The Books She Read In The Library. She Was The Flower In The Brown Bowl. Part Of Her Life Was Made From The Tree Growing Rankly In The Yard. She Was The Bitter Quarrels She Had With Her Brother Whom She Loved Dearly. She Was Katie's Secret, Despairing Weeping. She Was The Shame Of Her Father Stumbling Home Drunk. She Was All Of These Things And Of Something More...it Was What God Or Whatever Is His Equivalent Puts Into Each Soul That Is Given Life - The One Different Thing Such As That Which Makes No Two Fingerprints On The Face Of The Earth Alike.

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.

As Long As One Can Suffer, One Is Living....live And Suffer Until Life Is Gone.

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.

Let Me Be Something Every Minute Of Every Hour Of My Life...and When I Sleep, Let Me Dream All The Time So That Not One Little Piece Of Living Is Ever Lost.