What must I do, mother, what must I do to make a different world for her? How do I start?” “The secret lies in the reading and the writing. You are able to read.
BETTY SMITHPeople always think that happiness is a faraway thing,” thought Francie, “something complicated and hard to get.
More Betty Smith Quotes
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It’s a beautiful religion and I wish I understood it more. No, I don’t want to understand it all. It’s beautiful because it’s always a mystery.
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If you love someone, you’d rather suffer the pain alone to spare them.
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Everything, decided Francie after that first lecture, was vibrant with life and there was no death in chemistry. She was puzzled as to why learned people didn’t adopt chemistry as a religion.
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Some people do crossword puzzles. I do books.
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Look at everything as though you are seeing it for the first time.
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Books became her friends, and there was one for every mood.
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Yes, when I get big and have my own home, no plush chairs and lace curtains for me. And no rubber plants.
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New York! I’ve always wanted to see it and now I’ve see it. It’s true what they say– it’s the most wonderful city in the world.
BETTY SMITH -
Dear God,’ she prayed, ‘let me be something every minute of every hour of my life.’
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People always think that happiness is a faraway thing,” thought Francie, “something complicated and hard to get.
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It doesn’t take long to write things of which you know nothing. When you write of actual things, it takes longer, because you have to live them first.
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I tried my best to kill that man in the hallway. Then one sunny day, they walk out in all innocence and they walk right into the grief that you’d give your life to spare them from.
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You took a walk on a Sunday afternoon and came to a nice neighborhood, very refined. You saw a small one of these trees through the iron gate leading to someone’s yard and you knew that soon that section of Brooklyn would get to be a tenement district.
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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.
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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.
BETTY SMITH






