A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

by Betty Smith

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

“There are very few bad people. There are just a lot of people that are unlucky.”

“All my life I’ve been so lonely. I’ve been lonely at crowded parties. I’ve been lonely in the middle of kissing a girl and I’ve been lonely at camp with hundreds of fellows around. But now I’m not lonely any more.”

“People always think that happiness is a faraway thing,” thought Francie, “something complicated and hard to get. Yet, what little things can make it up; a place of shelter when it rains—a cup of strong hot coffee when you’re blue; for a man, a cigarette for contentment; a book to read when you’re alone—just to be with someone you love. Those things make happiness.”