Louisiana is a fresh-air mental asylum.

I looked at Lucas with the pang that a parent feels when he knows his child will be hurt and that it's no one's fault and that to try to preempt the rites of passage is an act of contempt for the child's courage.

Success, like fashion, is a fickle companion and can leave one in the wink of an eye.

Is there a design in the events of our lives? Or do things just happen, much like a junk yard falling down a staircase? If it's the latter, how do you deal with it?

Louisiana is a fresh-air mental asylum.

Age is a clever thief. It takes a little from you each day, so you're not aware of your loss until it'd irreversible.

...and I wonder if there is any way to adequately describe the folly that causes us to undo all the great gifts of both Earth and Heaven.