Saturday, November 3, 2012

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith

Frances Nolan, Age 15 years and 4 months.  April 6, 1917.
She thought:  "If I open this envelope fifty years from now, I will be again as I am now and there will be no being old for me.  There's a long, long time yet before fifty years...millions of hours of time.  But one hour has gone already since I sat here...only one hour less to hour gone away from all the hours of my life."
"Dear God," she prayed, "let me be something every minute of every hour of my life.  Let me be gay; let me be sad.  Let me be cold; let me be warm.  Let me be hungry...have too much to eat.  Let me be ragged or well dressed.  Let me be sincere -- be deceitful.  Let me be truthful; let me be a liar.  Let me be honorable and let me sin.  Only let me be something every blessed minute.  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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