The Yearling

Penny Baxter: [on the occasion of the burial of Fodderwing] Oh Lord. Almighty God. It ain't for us ignorant mortals to say what's right and what's wrong. Was any one of us to be doin' of it, we'd not of bring this poor boy into the world a cripple, and his mind teched. We'd of bring him in straight and tall like his brothers, fitten to live and work and do. But in a way o' speakin', Lord, you done made it up to him. You give him a way with the wild creatures. You give him a sort of wisdom, made him knowin' and gentle. The birds come to him, and the varmints moved free about him, and like as not he could of takened a she wild-cat right in his pore twisted hands. Now you've done seed fit to take him where bein' crookedy in mind or limb don't matter. But Lord, it pleasures us to think now you've done straightened out them legs and that pore bent back and them hands. It pleasures us to think on him, movin' around as easy as any one. And Lord, give him a few red-birds and maybe a squirrel and a 'coon and a 'possum to keep him company, like he had here. All of us is somehow lonesome, and we know he'll not be lonesome, do he have them little wild things around him, if it ain't askin' too much to put a few varmints in Heaven. Thy will be done. Amen.