“It's life, Sidda. You just climb on the beast and ride.”

“It’s life. You don’t figure it out. You just climb up on the beast and ride.”

“Mama parted with these Divine Secrets because I asked her to, Sidda thought. the reason I feel like crying, Sidda realized, is not just because this scrapbook is vulnerable, but because Mama, whether she knows it or not, has made herself so vulnerable to me.”

“Sidda can't help herself. She just loves books. Loves the way they feel, the way they smell, loves the black letters marching across the white pages...”

“I can't help it, I'm an addict.''Don't corrupt the word 'addict,' Goddamnit,' Caro said. 'I'm fed up with everybody claiming they're addicted. You're just a ponderer, Sidda, that's all.”

“She walks barefoot into the humid night, moonlight on her freckled shoulders. Near a huge, live oak tree on the edge of her father's cotton fields, Sidda looks up into the sky. In the crook of the crescent moon sits the Holy Lady, with strong muscles and a merciful heart. She kicks her splendid legs like the moon is her swing and the sky, her front porch. She waves down at Sidda like she has just spotted an old buddy.Sidda stands in the moonlight and lets the Blessed Mother love every hair on her six-year-old head. Tenderness flows down from the moon and up from the earth. For one fleeting, luminous moment, Sidda Walker knows there has never been a time when she has not been loved.”

“Sidda sank down into the wide flannel embrace of their bodies, and she rested. For a moment she died a little death, they died it together.”