... May I have this damaged bunch for two cents? Speak strongly and it shall be yours for two cents. That is a saved penny that you put in the star bank... Suffer the cold for an hour. Put a shawl around you. SAI, I am cold because I am saving to buy land. That hour will save you three cents' worth of coal... When you are alone at night, do not light the lamp. Sit in the darkness and dream awhile. Reckon out how much oil you saved and put its value in pennies in the bank. The money will grow. Someday there will be fifty dollars and somewhere on this long island is a piece of land that you may buy for that money.

— Betty Smith

Oh, and you must not forget the Kris Kringle. The child must believe in him until she reaches the age of six."" I KNOW there is no Santa Claus."" Yet you must teach the child that these things are so."" Why? When I, myself, do not believe?"" Because...the child must have a valuable thing which is called imagination. The child must have a secret world in which [to] live things that never were. It is necessary that she BELIEVE. She must start out believing in things not of this world. Then, when the world becomes too ugly for living in, the child can reach back and live in her imagination.

— Betty Smith

Oh, magic hour when a child first knows it can read printed words! For quite a while, France had been spelling out letters, sounding them and then putting the sounds together to mean a word. But, one day, she looked at a page and the word "mouse" had instantaneous meaning. She looked at the word, and a picture of a gray mouse scampered through her mind. She looked further and when she saw "horse," she heard him pawing the ground and saw the sun glint on his glossy coat. The word "running" hit her suddenly, and she breathed hard as though running herself. The barrier between the individual sound of each letter and the whole meaning of the word was removed, and the printed word meant a thing at one quick glance. She read a few pages rapidly and almost became ill with excitement. She wanted to shout it out. Furthermore, she could read! Furthermore, she could read! 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. There was poetry for quiet companionship. There was adventure when she tired of quiet hours. There would be love stories when she came to adolescence and when she wanted to feel a closeness to someone she could read a biography. On that day when she first knew she could read, she made a vow to read one book a day as long as she lived.

— Betty Smith

Oh, magic hour, when a child first knows she can read printed words.

— Betty Smith

She had become accustomed to being lonely. She was used to walking alone and to being considered 'different.' She did not suffer too much.

— Betty Smith

She sat in the sunshine watching the life on the street and guarding within herself, her own mystery of life.

— Betty Smith

She was a blameless sinless woman, yet she understood who how it was with people who sinned. Inflexibly rigid in her own moral conduct, she condoned weaknesses in others. She revered God and loved Jesus, but she understood why people often turned away from these Two.

— Betty Smith

She was made up of more, too. She was the books she read in the library. Furthermore, she was the flower in the brown bowl. Part of her life was made from the tree growing rankly in the yard. She was the bitter quarrels she had with her brother whom she loved dearly. She was Katie's secret, despairing weeping. She was the shame of her father staggering home drunk. She was all of these things and of something more that did not come from the Rommel nor the Nolan's, the reading, the observing, the living from day to day. It was something that had been born into her and her only - the something different from anyone else in the two families. It was what God or whatever is His equivalent puts into each soul that is given life - the one different thing such as that which makes no two fingerprints on the face of the earth alike.

— Betty Smith

Sometimes when you had nothing at all, and it was raining, and you were alone in the flat, it was wonderful to know that you could have something even though it was only a cup of black and bitter coffee.

— Betty Smith

The child will grow up and find out things for herself. She will know that I lied. She will be disappointed."" That is what is called learning the truth. It is a good thing to learn the truth one's self. To first believe with all your heart, and then not to believe, is good too. It fattens the emotions and makes them to stretch. When as a woman life and people disappoint her, she will have had practice in disappointment, and it will not come so hard. In teaching your child, do not forget that suffering is good too. It makes a person rich in character.

— Betty Smith