She had come into her beauty. This was not the beauty of her youth and freshness, of which she had had a plenty. The beauty that I am speaking of now was that of a woman who has come into knowledge and into strength and who, knowing her hardships, trusts her strength and goes about her work even with a kind of happiness, serene somehow, and secure. It was the beauty she would always have. Her eyes had not changed. They still seemed to exert a power, as if whatever she looked at (including, I thought, me) was brightened.

I have a crush on Jayber Crow, and, I presume, on Wendell Berry for writing him into being. I’m only halfway through this book, and I’m mad at my eyes for being too weak to read all through the night.

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3 thoughts on “

  1. You know, several of my friends have said the same. I don’t know why it worked so well for me. I think I may be a big-picture, multiple-storyline kind of person. You know, now that I think about it, I know I am.

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