When the people sat around on the porch and passed around the pictures of their thoughts for the others to look at and see, it was nice. The fact that the thought pictures were always crayon enlargements of life made it even nicer to listen to.
She had an inside and an outside now and suddenly she knew how not to mix them.
Nothing that God ever made is the same thing to more than one person.
A thing is mighty big when time and distance cannot shrink it.
Gods always love the people who make 'em.
She starched and ironed her face, forming it into just what people wanted to see.