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language. Nearing the end of her long experience she wrote this, in her 

own person, one of the fragments I found in her files.

"Seeing the thing makes it too big for words; they stumble. A 

condensation of words is a flat crystallized process. Reality is a rounded 

thing, that pulses. It overflows the mold of words. I cannot tell what my 

words are doing. I can only radiate myself. That is my form of expression. 

Take it from me as I pass: it is yours."

This gives me a glimpse for my point of view. Betty did radiate herself. 

For example, many people, seeing her objectively, remarked on how 

naturally and without effort she assumed the age of her companions of the 

moment. She could join children or old people—or anybody between— 

and become for the time being actually one of them. And obviously this 

was by no taking thought of condescension or adjustment. She entered 

their world so interestedly and wholly that she blended with it.

A friend had two children aged six and four. In due time the mother 

presented them with a baby sister; and the happy idea occurred to her that 

Peter and Sally could pick out the infant's godmother. They consulted.

"Can we have anyone we want? Anyone at all?" they asked.

"Anyone," the mother assured them, wondering which of a very large 

family of aunts and cousins it would be.

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