The morning air was like a new dress. That made her feel the apron tied around her waist. She untied it and flung it on a low bush beside the road and walked on, picking flowers and making a bouquet… From now on until death she was going to have flower dust and springtime sprinkled over everything.

If writers were too wise, perhaps no books would get written at all. It might be better to ask yourself 'Why?”'afterwards than before There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside you.

You got to go there to know there.

When a man keeps beating me to the draw mentally, he begins to get glamorous.

Every tub sits on its bottom.

You have no idea, sir, how difficult it is to be the victim of benevolence.

My head was full of misty fumes of doubt.