Oh time…time, pass so that I forget! Oh time, Great Healer, pass over me and let me forget.
BETTY SMITHThe neighborhood stores are an important part of a city child’s life.
More Betty Smith Quotes
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Sometimes I say I don’t believe in God and Jesus and Mary. I’m a bad Catholic because I miss mass once in a while and I grumble when, at confession,
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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.
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I hate all those flirty-birty games that women make up. Life’s too short. If you ever find a man you love, don’t waste time hanging your head and simpering. Go right up to him and say, ‘I love you. How about getting married?
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She must start out believing in things not of this world. Then when the world becomes too ugly for living in, the child can reach back and live in her imagination.
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Occasionally there is a moment in a person’s life when he takes a great stride forward in wisdom, humility, or disillusionment.
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As long as one can suffer, one is living….live and suffer until life is gone.
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Well, there’s a little bit of man in every woman and a little bit of woman in every man.
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She went out and took a last long look at the shabby little library. She knew she would never see it again.
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What was important was that the attempt to write stories kept her straight on the dividing line between truth and fiction. If she had not found this outlet in writing, she might have grown up to be a tremendous liar.
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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.
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A child forgets a time of hunger but never forgets the aching want of other things.
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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.
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You won’t die, Francie. You were born to lick this rotten life.
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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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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.
BETTY SMITH