Those were the Rommely women: Mary, the mother, Evy, Sissy, and Katie, her daughters, and Francie, who would grow up to be a Rommely woman even though her name was Nolan. They were all slender, frail creatures with wondering eyes and soft fluttery voices. But they were made out of thin invisible steel.
Betty SmithPeople looking up at her--at her smooth pretty vivacious face--had no way of knowing about the painfully articulated resolves formulating in her mind.
Betty SmithShe had had the pain; it had been like being boiled alive in scalding oil and not being able to die to get free of it
Betty SmithTag: a-tree-grows-in-brooklyn describing-labor-pains
Someday you'll remember what I said and you'll thank me for it."
Francie wished adults would stop telling her that. Already the load of thanks in the future was weighing her down. She figured she'd have to spend the best years of her womanhood hunting up people to tell them that they were right and to thank them.
Tag: humor a-tree-grows-in-brooklyn thanks betty-smith
Serene was a word you could put to Brooklyn New York. Especially in the summer of 1912. Somber as a word was better. But it did not apply to Williamsburg Brooklyn. Prairie was lovely and Shenandoah had a beautiful sound but you couldn't fit those words into Brooklyn. Serene was the only word for it especially on a Saturday afternoon in summer.
Betty SmithTag: opening-lines a-tree-grows-in-brooklyn
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