Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Betty Smith

Quote by Betty Smith

“From that time on, the world was hers for the reading. She would never be lonely again, never miss the lack of intimate friends. Books became her friends and there was one for every mood.”

Quote by Betty Smith

Work

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

This classic novel, published in 1943, is a poignant and inspiring story of resilience and the American Dream. The narrative is rich in detail, capturing the essence of life in a working-class family during a time of economic hardship and social change. The protagonist, Francie Nolan, navigates the challenges of poverty, education, and love, ultimately achieving her dreams against all odds. more

Author

Betty Smith
Betty Smith

Betty Smith was an American author known for her novel 'Peter Pan'. Her works are typically written from a child's perspective and have been beloved by readers of all ages. more

You May Also Like

“I hope no one who reads this book has been quite as miserable as Susan and Lucy were that night; but if you have been - if you've been up all night and cried till you have no more tears left in you - you will know that there comes in the end a sort of quietness. You feel as if nothing is ever going to happen again.”

“Let me say something about that word: miracle. For too long it's been used to characterize things or events that, though pleasant, are entirely normal. Peeping chicks at Easter time, spring generally, a clear sunrise after an overcast week--a miracle, people say, as if they've been educated from greeting cards.”

“Besides this earth, and besides the race of men, there is an invisible world and a kingdom of spirits: that world is around us, for it is everywhere; and those spirits watch us, for they are commissioned to gaurd us; and if we were dying in pain and shame, if scorn smote us on all sides, and hatred crushed us, angels see our tortures, recognize our innocence, and God waits ony a speration of spirit from flesh to crown us with a full reward.”

“If I were a younger man, I would write a history of human stupidity; and I would climb to the top of Mount McCabe and lie down on my back with my history for a pillow; and I would take from the ground some of the blue-white poison that makes statues of men; and I would make a statue of myself, lying on my back, grinning horribly, and thumbing my nose at You Know Who.”