They Learned No Compassion From Their Own

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.

In Teaching Your Child, Do Not Forget That Suffering Is Good Too. It Makes A Person Rich In Character.

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.

It Was A Good Thing That She Got Herself Into This Other School. It Showed Her That There Were Other Worlds Beside The World She Had Been Born Into And That These Other Worlds Were Not Unattainable.

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.