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“Abinia,” he said, pointing toward the chickens, “you look at those birds. Some of them be brown, some of them be white and black. Do you think when they little chicks, those mamas and papas care about that?”
Kathleen Grissom“Abinia,” he said, pointing toward the chickens, “you look at those birds. Some of them be brown, some of them be white and black. Do you think when they little chicks, those mamas and papas care about that?”
Kathleen Grissom“All of us are seeking a home, and I don't mean where we were born, or where we now live and have things, but where we can do the big things, the right things. Where we belong, where we fit, where we're loved."--Tennessee Williams, "Follies of God: Tennessee Williams and the Women of the Fog”
James Grissom“Life is about the adventures you take and the memories you make. So travel often and live life with open eyes and an open heart.”
Katie Grissom“Memory, of course, is unreliable, often evil, but it is the source of our identity."--Tennessee Williams”
James Grissom“Then you go ahead and cry, " Will said. That ended my weeping. Had he asked me not to cry, I would not have been able to stop, but his permission somehow quit my tears.”
Kathleen Grissom, The Kitchen House“Then you go ahead and cry," Will said. That ended my weeping. Had he asked me not to cry, I would have not been able to stop, but his permission somehow quite my tears.”
Kathleen Grissom, The Kitchen House“How did your mother die?” asked Delk.“Car accident,” Katie replied, gazing out over the water. “She’d been to mass. A tire blew on the way home, and she was gone. I was nineteen, Pather’s age, when it happened. My brother was only eleven.” She paused. “I do know what you’re going through.” Katie looked at her.“Pather told you?” Katie nodded. Delk was glad Pather had told his sister; she was relieved not to have to tell the story again. “Does it ever . . . you know . . . get any better?”Katie shrugged her narrow shoulders and smiled. “In some ways it does, but it’s a bit like running a long race with a rock in your shoe. You get used to it, but it always hurts a little.”
Suzanne Supplee, When Irish Guys Are Smiling“One of the questions that surprised me most was this: “Mommy, if Jesus comes to live inside my heart, will I explode?”“No!” I proclaimed as the children and I headed to the Nile River for a few of them to be baptized that day.Then I thought about the question a bit more.“Yes, if Jesus comes to live in your heart, you will explode.” That is exactly what we should do if Jesus comes to live inside our hearts. We will explode with love, with compassion, with hurt for those who are hurting, and with joy for those who rejoice. We will explode with a desire to be more, to be better, to be close to the One who made us.”
Katie J. Davis, Kisses from Katie: A Story of Relentless Love and Redemption“To-morrow I will begin," thought Katy, as she dropped asleep that night. How often we all do so! And what a pity it is that when morning comes and to-morrow is to-day, we so frequently wake up feeling quite differently; careless or impatient, and not a bit inclined to do the fine things we planned overnight.”
Susan Coolidge, What Katy Did“So, Freckles,” he said when I sat down. “Freckles?” I interrupted. “You said I couldn’t call ya, Katie-cat.” I shuddered. “I do have a given name, you know.” “I don’t want to call you what everyone else calls you.” “You don’t?” “Nope.” “Why?” I asked suspiciously. “Because I’m special.” “There goes that ego of yours again.” I held out my arms wide. “Big,” I mouthed.”
Cambria Hebert, Torch