“He's no John Walton.”

“He sang like an angel, he was faithful to God and he waited honorablyfor the wife he believed God chose for him. He made two daughters whoshone like mirrors in the direct sun; he blazed his path with a scytheand his broad shoulders, and he was who he chose to be, which is thehardest and bravest thing a man can do. He looked at us, his parents,his sisters, his whole crooked family, and he flexed his jaw muscles,packed up his truck, and drove away.”

“On Jesus: "Everyone around me was flat-out in love with him, and who wouldn't be? He was good with animals, he loved his mother, and he wasn't afraid of blind people.”

“That cat doesn't have a lick of sense,' I said, sighing.Well, honey, he's not right in the head,' Dad said, flipping his cigarette into the front yard.I glared at him. 'And just what do you mean by that?'Dad counted on his fingers. 'He's cross-eyed; he jumps out of trees after birds and then doesn't land on his feet; he sleeps with his head smashed up against the wall, and the tip of his tail is crooked.'Oh yeah? Well, how about this: he once got locked in a basement by evil Petey Scroggs in the middle of January and survived on snow and little frozen mice. When I'm cold at night he sleeps right on my face. Of that whole litter of kittens he came out of he's the only one left. One of his brothers didn't even have a butthole.'I stand corrected. PeeDink is a survivor.”

“Contrary to popular opinion, my dad was not a lazy man. He was not lazy at all, for instance, when it came to Going Places In His Truck. He was also very industrious about Preparing To Go Camping. And if something really interested him, he would work on it all day.”

“He did know: he knew her right away, and he felt known by her, and that was where the trouble really began...She could have been exotic or worldly or a Valkyrie and it would have meant nothing to him. But that Alice saw him―that was a feeling Amos had never experienced before, and it felt like a revelation and also like a virus.”

“Possibility, infinity, beauty -- none of those words were right. [...] What he really wanted to say was: have you felt this? this phantom life streaking like a phosphorescent hound at the edges of your ruin? ”