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.

Look at everything always as though you were seeing it either for the first or last time: Thus is your time on earth filled with glory.

Oh, magic hour, when a child first knows she can read printed words.

The world was hers for the reading.

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.

She had become accustomed to being lonely. She was used to walking alone and to being considered 'different.' She did not suffer too much.

Brooklyn was a dream. All the things that happened there just couldn't happen. It was all dream stuff. Or was it all real and true and was it that she, Francie, was the dreamer?

It's come at last", she thought, "the time when you can no longer stand between your children and heartache.

They learned no compassion from their own anguish. Thus their suffering was wasted.

But she needs me more than she needs him and I guess being needed is almost as good as being loved. Maybe better.

Francie, huddled with other children of her kind, learned more that first day than she realized. She learned of the class system of a great Democracy.

The chaos of their voices registers as a single, overwhelming force cutting off her ability to reason, and all she wants is to get as far away from people as possible.

...I gotta burn these scales... sigh*

I never saw, heard, nor read, that the clergy were beloved in any nation where Christianity was the religion of the country. Nothing can render them popular, but some degree of persecution.

I'm not an actor who can constantly pick and choose, I try to get the best of what's there.

Life is not supposed to be easy. Stop working so hard to make it that way. Go ahead and handle it!

It is not possible to found a lasting power upon injustice, perjury, and treachery.

Purity strikes me as the most mysterious of the virtues and the more I think about it the less I know about it.

The work my mum does, a lot of it is re-housing homeless people, that's a real job. I play make-believe and dressing up for a living!

I don't like to be the guy that stands out. I like kind of sneaking up on guys instead of being out front.

And a question stirred within me: What if he, this yellow-eyed creature, in his disorderly, filthy mound of leaves, in his uncomputed life, is happier than we are?