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Quote by Jessamyn West

“Mr. Birdwell," he asked, "how're you grounded in regard of religion? I have no mind to shake any belief of yours." "Grounded deep enough," Jess said, "so's nothing thee can say will matter." "When I's a child," Eli said, "I believed as a child but now I've come to maturer thinking." Jess looked into old Eli's eyes. they were like the screens a man sets across his windows, reflecting nothing, but hiding whatever lies beyond from sight. "God's only begotten son," said old Eli, leaning across the fence rail in his earnestness. "Why only one, Jess Birdwell? Why only one? And why a son? Whyn't a daughter? Something fishy there, Jess Birdwell, and the more you think on it, the plainer it becomes. Something mighty fishy.”

Quote by Jessamyn West

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Jessamyn West
Jessamyn West

Jessamyn West was an American writer born on July 18, 1902, and died on February 23, 1984. Known for her profound portrayal of rural life in the American Southwest, West's works are characterized by humor and satirical insights into character and social change. more

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“She flipped through the notebook. In most places, Murphy’s large, crooked handwriting ate up the pages greedily, as if she couldn’t write large enough to get her point across. Occasionally Birdie’s more graceful handwriting appeared, adding asides or participating with Murphy in some kind of list she had thrown together, like favorite Leeda moments, or most unknown things about Leeda, or Leeda’s top five best articles of clothing. Mostly, though, it was all Murphy. Listing albums Leeda had to own before she died, like Janis Joplin’s Pearl. Copied scraps of her favorite poetry: about nature and despair and cities and even one or two about love that Murphy had annotated with words like Sickening, but she’s good and Horrible but worth reading. Dried leaves---pecan, magnolia, and, of course, the thin slivered shape of the peach leaf---taped in messy crisscrosses. A cider label Birdie had once kissed. A diagram of Leeda---outlined sloppily with colored-in blond hair, with words on the outside pointing to different parts of her: brainy pointing to her head, good posture pointing to her back, hot gams pointing to her legs, impenetrable (ha ha) pointing to her heart.”

“The doorbell rang, and I assumed it was Fran and Roger having come back because they had forgotten something. I took my time, lacing my boots, and the buzzer became more impatient. “I’m coming, shithead!” I yelled. Yes, I should have known better. For of course, it was not Roger or Fran. I threw open the door to find Declan Tyler standing there, looking half-insulted and half-amused. “Got a pet name for me already?” he asked.”

“How hard is it to adjust to Earth life? Many incarnated adults only seem to be “grown up.” Inwardly they’re protesting humanity still; angels in human form who never manage to accept those harsh and dumbed-down vibrational frequencies, no matter how many years they breathe air and how strongly their human hearts beat. Understandably so. Every “normal” adjustment to human life could be considered a triumph, especially in the waning years of the Age of Faith. Even if nothing else were strange about human lifetimes in this era, growing into adulthood requires decades to learn how to run the body, gain a sense of self, manage money; then, depending upon the particulars of a Life Contract, additional challenges add to every lifetime intense potential for “education.”