When a Wanderess has been caged, or perched with her wings clipped, She lives like a Stoic, She lives most heroic, smiling with ruby, moistened lips once her cup of Death is welcome sipped.
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 not 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 things 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.
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
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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 not 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 things 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.
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