“The grapes he foraged set my teeth on edge.I want to hack through their wild vines, dissectthis anger. It's a tangle: steep hill strungwith old foxgrapes among the hardwood, toughenough to swing from (proto-bungee rushthat's like a fit of rage, adrenalinalive inside me), or to strangle in.Vines choke.”

“A good word will spread in the grapevine, bringing forth clusters of grapes and the benevolent of wine; a bad word will spread withering the vines, and choke the potential grapes.”

“Gently guide the tender vine else it become wild, tangled and impossible.”

“Cause I'm just - I want to go to Amsterdam, and I want him to tell me what happens after the book is over, and I just don't want my particular life, and also the sky is depressing me, and there is this old swing set out here that my dad made for me when I was a kid.''I must see this old swing set of tears immediately,' he said. 'I'll be over in twenty minutes.”

“I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.”

“I keep my eyes down, looking now at my fingers as they twist the fabric into a knot."I'm sorry. About the way I acted yesterday." When I straighten up, Ky has already moved on."Don't be," Ky says, pulling a tangle of climbing green vines away from a shrub so that we can pass through. He throws the vines at me and I catch them in surprise. "It's good to see you jealous once in a while." He smiles,”