I Wish To Live For Myself. I

This Is The World We Live In, Gemma, For Better Or For Worse. Make Of It What You Can," He Says, And I Pull Him To Me.

She Was Too Much—for Zenith, Ohio. She’d Tried At Times To Make Herself Smaller, To Fit Neatly Into The Ordered Lines Of Expectation. But Somehow, She Always Managed To Say Or Do Something Outrageous—she’d Accept A Dare To Climb A Flagpole, Or Make A Slightly Risqué Joke, Or Go Riding In Cars With Boys—and Suddenly She Was “that Awful O’neill Girl” All Over Again.

Or Perhaps It Is Some Combination Of Spirit And Desire, Love And Hope, Some Alchemy That We Each Possess And Can Put To Use, If We First Know Where To Look Without Flinching.

The Library Card Is A Passport To Wonders And Miracles, Glimpses Into Other Lives, Religions, Experiences, The Hopes And Dreams And Strivings Of All Human Beings, And It Is This Passport That Opens Our Eyes And Hearts To The World Beyond Our Front Doors, That Is One Of Our Best Hopes Against Tyranny, Xenophobia, Hopelessness, Despair, Anarchy, And Ignorance.

The Only Thing I Don't Divulge Is The Truth About Mother Killing Little Carolina. I Don't Know Why. Perhaps I Sense He's Not Ready To Know That Just Yet. Maybe He Never Will. People Can Live With Only So Much Honesty. And Sometimes, People Can Suprise You. I Talk To My Brother As I Never Have Before, Trusting In Him, Letting The River Listen To My Confessions On Its Path Toward The Sea. ~pg 693