“I love a sunburnt country,A land of sweeping plains,Of ragged mountain ranges,Of droughts and flooding rains.I love her far horizons,I love her jewel-sea,Her beauty and her terror –The wide brown land for me!”

“My mother's hands were sixty-four years old, weathered, beautiful. They were soft and hard and they held no duplicity of emotion. They didn't love and hate. They were not tender and violent. They never offered me the world and handed me hell. They were constant: I miss them purely.”

“There ain’t a gen’lm’n in all the land – nor yet sailing upon all the sea – that can love his lady more than I love her.”

“Okay. I could her deb wailing-in my head. This is the Lowcountry, Steve. That's how life goes around here.”

“There is a lady sweet and kind,Was never a face so pleased my mind;I did but see her passing by. And yet I'll love her till I die. Her gesture, motion, and her smiles,Her wit, her voice my heart beguiles,Beguiles my heart, I know not why,And yet I'll love her till I die. Cupid is winged and he doth range,Her country, so, my love doth change. But change she earth, or change she sky,Yet, I will love her till I die.”

“I thought you loved your husband.” She blows air through her nose.The action reminds me of an agitated horse. Her eyes rove from my shoes and land in disgust on my face. “I love yours too.”

“As I spoke of another's love and looked into the wide, blue windows of her soul, a rich, insistent yearning flooded my senses.--"Tango”