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Betty Smith Biography

Betty Smith (December 15, 1896 – January 17, 1972) was an American author. She is best known for her 1943 novel A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, which became a immediate bestseller and is now considered one of the great American novels of the 20th century. The book was later adapted to the screen in the movie of the same title, directed by Elia Kazan, and starring Dorothy McGuire, Joan Blondell and Peggy Ann Garner.

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Betty Smith Quotes

Mother, I am young. Mother, I am just eighteen. I am strong. I will work hard, Mother. But I do not want this child to grow up just to work hard. What must I do, mother, what must I do to make a different world for her? How do I start?" "The secret lies in the reading and the writing. You are able to read. Every day you must read one page from some good book to your child. Every day this must be until the child learns to read. Then she must read every day, I know this is the secret

Child, Children, Mother, Page, Start, Strong

'Dear God,' she prayed, 'let me be something every minute of every hour of my life. '

Beautiful, Brooklyn, Dear, Dear God, God, Minute

I hate all those flirty-birty games that women make up. Life's too short. If you ever find a man you love, don't waste time hanging your head and simpering. Go right up to him and say, 'I love you. How about getting married?

Flirty, Games, Hate, Head, Love You, Right

It meant that she belonged some place. She was a Brooklyn girl with a Brooklyn name and a Brooklyn accent. She didn't want to change into a bit of this and a bit of that.

Accent, Belonged, Brooklyn, Change, Girl, Names

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

Different, Girl, Lonely, Suffering, Used, Walking

Let me be something every minute of every hour of my life. . . And when I sleep, let me dream all the time so that not one little piece of living is ever lost.

Dream, Life, Piece, Pieces, Sleep

It's come at last," she thought, "the time when you can no longer stand between your children and heartache. When there wasn't enough food in the house you pretended that you weren't hungry so they could have more. In the cold of a winter's night you got up and put your blanket on their bed so they wouldn't be cold. You'd kill anyone who tried to harm them - I tried my best to kill that man in the hallway. Then one sunny day, they walk out in all innocence and they walk right into the grief that you'd give your life to spare them from.

Children, Come, Grief, Longer, Right, Winter

The difference between rich and poor", said Francie, "is that the poor do everything with thier own hands and the rich hire hands to do things.

Difference, Differences, Hands, Rich, Said

Those were the Rommely women: Mary, the mother, Evy, Sissy, and Katie, her daughters, and Francie, who would grow up to be a Rommely woman even though her name was Nolan. They were all slender, frail creatures with wondering eyes and soft fluttery voices. But they were made out of thin invisible steel.

Daughter, Growing Up, Mother, Though, Voices, Woman

She was made up of more, too. She was the books she read in the library. 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 stumbling home drunk. She was all of these things and of something more. . . 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.

Bitter, Book, Brother, Father, Life, Secret

And that's where the whole trouble is. We're too much alike to understand each other because we don't even understand our own selves.

Alike, Self, Selves, Too Much, Trouble

We'll leave now, so that this moment will remain a perfect memory. . . let it be our song and think of me every time you hear it.

Memories, Memory, Moment, Perfect, Song, Thinking

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. . . .

Book, Flower, Green, Pencils, Row, Wall

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.

Believe, Children, Disappointment, Learn, Life, Rich

If there was only one tree like that in the world, you would think it was beautiful. But because there are so many, you just can't see how beautiful it really is.

Beautiful, Like, Think, Thinking, Tree

Who wants to die? Everything struggles to live. Look at that tree growing up there out of that grating. It gets no sun, and water only when it rains. It's growing out of sour earth. And it's strong because its hard struggle to live is making it strong. My children will be strong that way.

Children, Grating, Rains, Strength, Strong, Way

But the penciled sheets did not seem like nor smell like the library book so she had given it up, consoling herself with the vow that when she grew up, she would work hard, save money and buy every single book that she liked.

Book, Hard Work, Like, Sheets, Smell

It takes a lot of doing to die.

Die, Dies, Takes

Well, there's a little bit of man in every woman and a little bit of woman in every man.

Littles, Man, Men, Wells, Woman

There are very few bad people. There are just a lot of people that are unlucky.

Bad, Bad People, People, Unlucky

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