Hattie.' Grace patted my arm. 'My cows sing better than you do.
There should be fireworks at last, when a dream dies.
I will have to rely on that painful teacher, experience.
Life was like a batch of biscuits without the baking powder: flat, flat, flat.
Hon, when someone's a true friend, there's no need to miss 'em." She patted her chest. "'Cause they're always right here.
My bounce-around life had taught me that dreams were dangerous things - they look solid in your mind, but you just try to reach for them. It's like gathering clouds.