"we sat quietly until the moon rose — a huge harvest moon that seemed to fill the eastern sky. “lookit that,” said sister alma rose. “If a heart beats pure,” she said, “even the moon can feel its pulsing; and the moon grows strong and governs the tides; and in the end, miss fanny,” she said, caressing my cheek, “love really does make the world go ‘round."
— almarose
