Now, I used to be a crybaby. I cried at all sorts of things. But now it seems I only cry when I watch movies that people are crying in them, (If it's good acting, but then again, I cried in the Last Song...Bahahah! No, wait, that was because some things in that movie hit close to home.) if I get hurt (I have a very low tolerance for pain.), or if I'm reading a book and something happens to a nice character [dies] and everyone else is bawling their eyes out (sometimes) Or anything family related. If its unhappy/sad/makes me angry. Yeah, when I'm really, super, uber angry I start crying. Okay, so I still am a crybaby. -shrugs- It's part of my charm.
Anyway. I am going to share a paragraph or so from a book with you. From out of my favourite chapter, from out of one of my favourite books. The movie hardly does this part justice. The chapter is called All Alone.
It was easy to promise self-abnegation when self was wrapt up in another, and heart and soul were purified by a sweet example; but when the helpful voice was silent, the daily lesson over, the beloved presence gone, and nothing remained but loneliness and grief, then Jo found her promise very hard to keep. How could she 'comfort father and mother,' when her own heart ached with a ceaseless longing for her sister; how could she 'make the house cheerful,' when all its light, and warmth, and beauty, seemed to have deserted it when Beth left the old home for the new; and where, in all the world, could she 'find some useful happy work to do,' that would take the place of the loving service which has been its own reward?...........
But someone did come to help her, though Jo did not recognize her good angels at once, because they wore familiar shapes, and used the simple spells best fitted to poor humanity. Often she started up at night, thinking Beth had called her; and when the sight of the little empty bed made her cry with the bitter cry of an unsubmissive sorrow, "Oh, Beth! come back! come back!" she did not stretch out her yearning arms in vain; for, as quick to hear her sobbing as she had been to hear her sister's faintest whisper, her mother came to comfort her. Not with words only, but the patient tenderness that soothes by a touch, tears that were mute reminders of a greater grief than Jo's, and broken whispers, more eloquent than prayers, because hopeful resignation went hand-in-hand with natural sorrow. Sacred moments! when heart talked to heart in the silence of the night, turning affliction to a blessing, which chastened grief and strengthened love. Feeling this, Jo's burden seemed a little easier to bear, duty grew sweeter, and life looked more endurable, seen from the safe shelter of her mothers arms.
So yeah. I hope you like it! Can you tell me what book its from? XD
