"Pollyanna cried out in dismay.
'Oh, but Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, you haven't left me any time at all just to -- to live.'
'To live, child! What do you mean? As if you weren't living all the time!'
'Oh, of course I'd be breathing all the time I was doing those things, Aunt Polly, but I wouldn't be living. You breathe all the time you're asleep, but you aren't living. I mean living -- doing the things you want to do: playing outdoors, reading (to myself, of course), climbing hills, talking to Mr. Tom in the garden, and Nancy, and finding out all about the houses and the people and everything everywhere all through the perfectly lovely streets I came through yesterday. That's what I call living, Aunt Polly. Just breathing isn't living!'"
From Pollyanna by Eleanor Porter... our newest lunchtime read aloud. A book which, in my opinion, gets an undeserved bad rap.