“ApplesMa's apple blossomshave turned to hard green balls.To eat them now,so tart,would turn my mouth inside out, would make my stomach groan.But in just a couple months,after the baby is born,those apples will be ready and we'll make piesand sauceand puddingand dumplingsand cakeand cobblerand have just plain apples to take to schooland slice with my pocket knifeand eat one juicy piece at a timeuntil my mouth is cleanand freshand my breath is nothing but apple.June 1934”

“each day after class lets out,each morning before it begins, i sit at the school piano and make my hands work. in spite of the pain, in spite of the stiffness and scars. i make my hands play piano.i have practiced my best piece over and over till my arms throb.”

“Daddy named me Billie Jo. He wanted a boy. Instead, he got a long legged girl with a wide mouth with cheekbones like bicycle handles. He got a redheaded, freckle faced, narrow-hipped girl with a fondness for apples and hunger for playing fierce piano.”

“I've never had a better piece o' roast. But it was the apple pie as made the meal. It was flaky and sweet, all buttery,with-""Enough!" Dougal's stomach growled loudly. "The food I was given was not fit for consumption. Ride to town today, and fetch some foodstuffs. Some apples, tarts, a few meat pies-whatever will keep well.""Aye,me lord.Do ye want an apple now? I've one here I was saving fer yer horse.""Thank you." Dougal pocketed the apple."Not very hospitable, giving yer poor victuals and a lumpy bed.""This is all part of their plan. Mr. MacFarlane regrets giving up his house on the gaming table, and his daughter is determined to regain it.”

“As long as you live, it is never too late to make amends. Take my advice, child. Don't waste your precious life with regrets and sorrow. Find a way to make right what was wrong, and then move on.”

“One time, when I was very little, I climbed a tree and ate these green, sour apples. My stomach swelled and became hard like a drum, it hurt a lot. Mother said that if I'd just waited for the apples to ripen, I wouldn't have become sick. So now, whenever I really want something, I try to remember what she said about the apples.”

“I play songs that have only the pattern of my self in them and you hum along suporting me. You are the companion to myself. The mirror with my mother'e eyes.”