Home > Work > The Friendly Persuasion
1 " Life's a shock to the young. Shock to have an old man for a father instead of an angel. Shock to eat ham gravy instead of dew drops. And to like ham gravy. That's the worst shock of all. Find yourself fitting into this sorry world. "
― Jessamyn West , The Friendly Persuasion
2 " They darted like needles through the morning - they wove the bright May morning into a fabric strong enough to support a party. "
3 " Thee knows. . .dying's only half of it. Any of us hear, I hope. . .is ready to die for what he believes. If it's asked of us and can be turned to good account. I'm not one for dying, willy-nilly, thee understands. . . .It's an awful final thing, and more often and not nobody's much discommoded by it, except thyself, but there are times when it's the only answer a man can give to certain questions. Then I'm for it. But thee's not been asked such a question, now. Thee can go out on the pike. . .and thee'll be . . .as dead and just as forgotten as if thee'd tied a stone round they neck and jumped off Clifty Falls. No, Josh, dying won't turn the trick. What thee'll be asked to do now - is kill.'The word hung in the air. A fly circled the table, loudly and slowly, and still the sound of the word was there. . . .louder than the ugly humming. It hung in the air like an open wound. Kill. In the Quaker household the word was bare and stark. Bare as in Cain and Abel's time with none of the panoply of wars and regiments and campaigns to clothe it. Kill. Kill a man. Kill thy brother. . . . "
4 " Eliza, I'm eighty years old. All my life I've been trying one way or another to do people good. Whether that was right or not, I don't know, but it comes over me now that I'm excused from all that. I loved Homer, but I tried to do him good. .. the way I see it now, that was wrong, that was where I's led astray. From now on, Eliza, I don't figure there's a thing asked of me but to love my fellow men. . . .No, Eliza, as far as I can see, there's not another thing asked of me, from this day forward. "
5 " Thee asked me where I'd been and how I'd fared. I've been quite a step. . . and fared mighty well the whole ways. If a man'd fared any better'n me it'd unsettled his mind. I've had two eyes and seen sights so pretty there's no words to duplicate them. I've drunk the wine of astonishment. . .standing still, gazing. I've had two feet and no better land anywhere to walk on. Green plush grass in spring, and leaves like a carpet in fall. I've smelled white clover in daytime and quenched my thirst with live spring-water. I've earned my bread in the sweat of my brow, and still do, hard-scrabble like any other man, but making out. I've had for wife the one woman I'd choose, and been free to lift my voice to God. Though mighty backward, I reckon, in making out what He's had to say to me. I've fared so well. . . .that a jot more'n I'd be crying. "
6 " Mr. Birdwell," he asked, "how're you grounded in regard of religion? I have no mind to shake any belief of yours." "Grounded deep enough," Jess said, "so's nothing thee can say will matter." "When I's a child," Eli said, "I believed as a child but now I've come to maturer thinking." Jess looked into old Eli's eyes. they were like the screens a man sets across his windows, reflecting nothing, but hiding whatever lies beyond from sight. "God's only begotten son," said old Eli, leaning across the fence rail in his earnestness. "Why only one, Jess Birdwell? Why only one? And why a son? Whyn't a daughter? Something fishy there, Jess Birdwell, and the more you think on it, the plainer it becomes. Something mighty fishy. "