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.

And that's where the whole trouble is. We're too much alike to understand each other because we don't even understand our own selves.

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. 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.

You won't die, Francie. You were born to lick this rotten life.

Intolerance is a thing that causes war, pogroms, crucifixions, lynchings, and makes people cruel to little children and each other. It is responsible for most of the viciousness, violence, terror, and heart and soul breaking of the world.

From that moment on, the world was hers for the reading. She would never be lonely again.

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