Life's too short to care about what other people think. Besides, they should accept us for who we are

I hadn’t been paying much attention to things like the sunrise, but that old sun had been coming up anyway. It didn’t really care how I felt, it was going to rise and set regardless of whether I noticed it, and if I was going to enjoy it, that was up to me.

When people kill themselves, they think they're ending the pain, but all they're doing is passing it on to those they leave behind.

The way Mom saw it, women should let menfolk do the work because it made them feel more manly. That notion only made sense if you had a strong man willing to step up and get things done, and between Dad's gimp, Buster's elaborate excuses, and Apache's tendency to disappear, it was often up to me to keep the place from falling apart. But even when everyone was pitching in, we never got out from under all the work. I loved that ranch, though sometimes it did seem that instead of us owning the place, the place owned us.

She had her addictions and one of them was reading.

People are like animals. Some are happiest penned in, some need to roam free. You go to recognize what's in her nature and accept it.

It was good work, the kind of work that let you sleep soundly at night and, when you awoke, look forward to the day.