It Was A Good Thing That She

And Always, There Was The Magic Of Learning Things.

Well, There's A Little Bit Of Man In Every Woman And A Little Bit Of Woman In Every Man.

No Matter Where Its Seed Fell, It Made A Tree Which Struggled To Reach The Sky. It Grew In Boarded-up Lots And Out Of Neglected Rubbish Heaps, And It Was The Only Tree That Grew Out Of Cement. It Grew Lushly, But Only In The Tenements Districts.... That Was The Kind Of Tree It Was. It Liked Poor People.

Yes, When I Get Big And Have My Own Home, No Plush Chairs And Lace Curtains For Me. And No Rubber Plants. I'll Have A Desk Like This In My Parlor And White Walls And A Clean Green Blotter Every Saturday Night And A Row Of Shining Yellow Pencils Always Sharpened For Writing And A Golden-brown Bowl With A Flower Or Some Leaves Or Berries Always In It And Books . . . Books . . . Books. . . .

Oh Time...time, Pass So That I Forget! Oh Time, Great Healer, Pass Over Me And Let Me Forget.