“How do you know where a story begins?”

“Do you ever look at the people around you and wonder how you ended up with them?”

“Did you know that seventy-five to eighty percent of juvenile offenders can’t read at grade level?”“Really?” This was news to me.“Your world becomes a much smaller place if you can’t read. You have far fewer options. It’s not the only factor, but it’s a big one. If they want to know how big to build a prison,all they have to do is look at the illiteracy statistics.”“They knew I was coming.”“You or someone like you.”“You knew it too, all those years ago, back in Quincy. That’s why you tried to help me. Because you knew I was coming here.”“Here or someplace like here.”

“The RoadLife isn't a destinationIt's a journey.But you gotta be heading somewhereor you're just a mousegoing round.Even ifthe place you wind up isn't the place you where bound”

“How far can you go down the wrong path before you can't get back on the right one?”

“I washolding herand she washolding me.Couldn’t seewe both weregoing down.When holding onis the only thingyou’ve got,how can you knowthis is how lovers drown?”

“Where we goin’?” Wade whispers to me as we approach the white picket fence that surrounds the row of wooden crosses.For all I know my grandmother could be planning to shoot us and bury us with the rest of the family, but I don’t think it would help to share this notion with Wade”