Sometimes I think it's better to suffer bitter unhappiness and to fight and to scream out, and even to suffer that terrible pain, than to just be... safe. At least she knows she's living.

As she read, at peace with the world and happy as only a little girl could be with a fine book and a little bowl of candy, and all alone in the house, the leaf shadows shifted and the afternoon passed.

Who wants to die? Everything struggles to live. Look at that tree growing up there out of that grating. It gets no sun, and water only when it rains. It's growing out of sour earth. And it's strong because its hard struggle to live is making it strong. My children will be strong that way.

A child forgets a time of hunger but never forgets the aching want of other things.

All of us are what we have to be and everyone lives the kind of life its in him to live.

There had to be dark and muddy waters so that the sun could have something to background it's flashing glory.

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