No. I Don't Want To Need Anybody.

You Won't Die, Francie. You Were Born To Lick This Rotten Life.

Dear God," She Prayed, "let Me Be Something Every Minute Of Every Hour Of My Life. Let Me Be Gay; Let Me Be Sad. Let Me Be Cold; Let Me Be Warm. Let Me Be Hungry...have Too Much To Eat. Let Me Be Ragged Or Well Dressed. Let Me Be Sincere - Be Deceitful. Let Me Be Truthful; Let Me Be A Liar. Let Me Be Honorable And Let Me Sin. Only Let Me Be Something Every Blessed Minute. And When I Sleep, Let Me Dream All The Time So That Not One Little Piece Of Living Is Ever Lost.

She Had Heard Papa Sing So Many Songs About The Heart; The Heart That Was Breaking - Was Aching - Was Dancing -was Heavy Laden - That Leaped For Joy - That Was Heavy In Sorrow - That Turned Over - That Stood Still. She Really Believed The Heart Actually Did Those Things.

It's A Beautiful Religion And I Wish I Understood It More. No, I Don't Want To Understand It All. It's Beautiful Because It's Always A Mystery. Sometimes I Say I Don't Believe In God And Jesus And Mary. I'm A Bad Catholic Because I Miss Mass Once In A While And I Grumble When, At Confession, I Get A Heavy Penance For Something I Couldn't Help Doing. But Good Or Bad, I Am A Catholic And I'll Never Be Anything Else. Of Course, I Didn't Ask To Be Born Catholic, No More Than I Asked To Be Born American. But I'm Glad It Turned Out That I'm Both These Things.

Oh, Magic Hour, When A Child First Knows She Can Read Printed Words.