You end up taking your sugar with your salt and your kicks with your kisses.

The Sisters were Southern Baptist, and they went to church on Saturdays and Sundays, and most other days, too.

It almost felt like she was sucking it all out of me, like she sucked on that sticky red lollipop, the one she kept licking as she drove.

It smelled like aging wood and creosote, plastic book covers, and old paper. Old paper, which my mom used to say was the smell of time itself.

I wouldn't know where to start." "He who chooses the beginning of the road chooses the place it leads to." "Thoreau?" "Harry Emerson Fosdick.

I only assumed those dresses were costumes, based on the garish nature of the plumage.

Even when I didn't know anything else about where I was or what I was supposed to be doing. You were my Wayward, even then. Everything always brought me back to you. Everything.