There's A Tree That Grows In Brooklyn.

It Meant That She Belonged Some Place. She Was A Brooklyn Girl With A Brooklyn Name And A Brooklyn Accent. She Didn't Want To Change Into A Bit Of This And A Bit Of That.

Francie Was Ten Years Old When She First Found An Outlet In Writing. What She Wrote Was Of Little Consequence. What Was Important Was That The Attempt To Write Stories Kept Her Straight On The Dividing Line Between Truth And Fiction. If She Had Not Found This Outlet In Writing, She Might Have Grown Up To Be A Tremendous Liar.

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.

Mother, I Am Young. Mother, I Am Just Eighteen. I Am Strong. I Will Work Hard, Mother. But I Do Not Want This Child To Grow Up Just To Work Hard. What Must I Do, Mother, What Must I Do To Make A Different World For Her? How Do I Start?" "the Secret Lies In The Reading And The Writing. You Are Able To Read. Every Day You Must Read One Page From Some Good Book To Your Child. Every Day This Must Be Until The Child Learns To Read. Then She Must Read Every Day, I Know This Is The Secret

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.