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Tarkington, Booth, 1869-1946

"The Turmoil, a novel"

It's a beautiful town. Look at our
wholesale district; look at any district you want to; look at the
park system we're puttin' through, and the boulevards and the public
statuary. And she grows. God! how she grows!" He had become
intensely grave; he spoke with solemnity. "Now, Bibbs, I can't take
any of it--nor any gold or silver nor buildings nor bonds--away with
me in my shroud when I have to go. But I want to leave my share in
it to my boys. I've worked for it; I've been a builder and a maker;
and two blades of grass have grown where one grew before, whenever
I laid my hand on the ground and willed 'em to grow. I've built big,
and I want the buildin' to go on. And when my last hour comes I want
to know that my boys are ready to take charge; that they're fit to
take charge and go ON with it. Bibbs, when that hour comes I want
to know that my boys are big men, ready and fit to hold of big things.
Bibbs, when I'm up above I want to know that the big share I've made
mine, here below, is growin' bigger and bigger in the charge of my
boys."
He leaned back, deeply moved. "There!" he said, huskily. "I've never
spoken more what was in my heart in my life.


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