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Quote by Emily Ann Benedict

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Perception

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Emily Ann Benedict

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“I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)I am never without it (anywhere I go you go,my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling) I fear no fate (for you are my fate,my sweet)I want no world (for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)”

“In the architecture of their life some may display Potemkin happiness in view of hiding the dark features of their fair weather relationship, preferring to set up a window dressing of fake satisfaction rather than being rejected as emotional outcasts. ("Absence of beauty was like hell")”

“Marion stared into his face. “Thank you.” She blinked back sudden tears. “Mr. Bradley, you’re swell. You’ve helped my family so much, and I never appreciated it before.” “Thank you.” Mr. Bradley returned her look, intensely. “I care for all of you. You’re some of the best people I’ve ever known.” Marion smiled and mumbled, “Mr. Sour-face.” “What was that?” “Nothing!” She grinned wider. He smiled back. It was a nice smile.”

“No pressuring them, Aunt Jennie,” Marion admonished with a straight face but laughing eyes. “They don’t like being hurried. They’re likely to baulk like mules and wait until they’re thirty.” “Jeepers, I hope not!” Frances cried, halting her knife and fork’s work at some beef. “I’m tired of waiting and guessing their intentions. I’ve been doing that for seven months. I just want to see them married!” Everett grinned. “So do I.”

“I don’t know how to ask this,” Everett began. “You and Mr. Bradley…you’re not…” He gestured helplessly with his left hand. “I mean, there’s not, uh, something…is there?” After a bewildered moment Ellen’s eyes widened. “Oh, no! Not—not at all.” Everett’s breath hitched. “I thought—I thought perhaps there was. That’s why I hesitated…but if there isn’t…then I got the right color.” He studied his crimson bouquet, spinning it slowly in a mesmerizing circle. Ellen gulped. Everett looked up, walked forward, and glanced down at his roses, then held them out to her and recaptured her gaze. “I remember you said you liked roses. I think you said white roses, but they don’t have the right meaning.” He smiled sheepishly. Ellen’s eyes dropped. She reached out a shaky hand and clasped the firm, cool, de-thorned stems. “You…do understand me then?” he asked. “Perfectly.” Ellen burst into tears.”