“From that time forth, whenever a critical decision had to be made concerning the future, the Oneida considered "how much was enough and how much was too much." Someone would rise and pose the question: "Tell me now my brothers! Tell me now my sisters! Who speaks for Wolf?"Like other Native Americans, the Oneida were soon overwhelmed by an invading culture that had scant understanding of such a sense of nuance toward the earth, plants, and animals, and in particular, wolves.Centuries would pass before anyone would venture again to speak for Wolf.”

“Steve [sports psychiatrist] had already taught me to try and stop worrying so much about pleasing everyone. We knew that this was one of my most draining flaws and he again used three groups to clarify my thinking. There would always be some people, Steve said, who would care about me and love me. In contrast there would also be a select group of people who would never warm to me - no matter what I did. And in the middle came the overwhelming mass who were largely indifferent to any of my failures or triumphs. I needed to understand that most people didn't really care what I did or said. All my anguish about how they might perceive me was redundant. Steve helped me realize that I spent too much time trying to please those oblivious people in the middle or, more problematically, the small group who would never change their critical opinion of me. I should concentrate on the people who really did show concern for me.”

“So, you tumbled that wolf you were with?” Mercy was too much a pack animal to take offense at the personal question. She grinned. “How did you know it was me?” “Do I look senile to you?”...“Yes,” Mercy said. “And I'm not doing it again.” If she kept telling herself that, maybe her traitorous body would actually notice and shut up with its demands. The older woman gave her a sour look. “Damn shame. What, you like them prettier?” A snort. “In my day, we liked men who looked like men.”

“You're like a brother to me. I would never do anything to hurt you. And I know I haven't been what a brother would consider good material for his wee sister, but I love Ellie, Braden. I have for a long time now, and I can't not be with her. I've wasted too much time as it is.”

“I just wish that God or my parents or Sam or my sister or someone would just tell me what's wrong with me. Just tell me how to be different in a way that makes sense. To make this all go away.”

“And also--to add to my problems--my parents and relatives kept telling me how they'd grown up feeling so close to the Almighty that they'd spoken to Him on a daily basis as one would speak to a friend and how, now and then, God had actually spoken back to them in the form of miracles.”