I'm always making Butcher Holler sound like the most backward part of the United States-and I think maybe it is.
You've got to continue to grow, or you're just like last night's cornbread - stale and dry.
My attitude toward men who mess around is simple: If you find 'em, kill 'em.
You get used to sadness, growing up in the mountains, I guess.
Who wants to be married to a grandfather?
The night I announced I was getting married, Daddy paced for hours on the porch.