“A Long Way from Chicago is the funniest book I have read in a while. You will enjoy the antics of Grandma and the love and dismay her grandchildren feel for her”

“Grandma, how old is she?""Oh I don't know." Grandma said. "You'd have to cut off her head and count the rings in her neck.”

“I’d heard about the Baptists from Jacob Henry’s mother. According to her, Baptists were a strange lot. They put you in water to see how holy you were. Then they ducked you under the water three times. Didn’t matter a whit if you could swim or no. If you didn’t come up, you got dead and your mortal soul went to Hell. But if you did come up, it was even worse. You had to be a Baptist.”

“Try an’ try,” he said, “but when it comes day’s end, I can’t wash the pig off me. And your mother never complains. Not once, in all these years, has she ever said that I smell strong. I said once to her that I was sorry.” “What did Mama say?” “She said I smelled of honest work, and that there was no sorry to be said or heard.”

“Aren't you a Republican? Just about everyone is in the whole town of Learning.""No, I'm not a Republican. And I'm not no Democrat. I'm not nothing.""Why not?""Because I'm not allowed to vote.""Me either. You have to be twenty-one to vote. I'm only twelve.""Reckon I'm soon looking at sixty.""Then why can't you vote? Is it because you're a Shaker?""No, it's account of I can't read or write. When a man cannot do these things, people think his head is weak. Even when he's proved his back is strong."Who decides?""Men who look at me and take me not for what I be. Men who only see my mark, my X, when I can't sign my name. They can't see how I true a beam to build our barn, or see that the rows of corn in my field are straight as fences. They just seem me walk the street in Learning in clothes made me by my own woman. They do not care that my coat is strudy and keeps me warm. They'll not care that I owe no debt and I am beholding to no man.”

“Read to your childrenTwenty minutes a day;You have the time,And so do they.Read while the laundry is in the machine;Read while the dinner cooks;Tuck a child in the crook of your armAnd reach for the library books.Hide the remote,Let the computer games cool,For one day your children will be off to school;Remedial? Gifted? You have the choice;Let them hear their first talesIn the sound of your voice.Read in the morning;Read over noon;Read by the light ofGoodnight Moon.Turn the pages together,Sitting close as you'll fit,Till a small voice beside you says,"Hey, don't quit.”

“It is a splendid thing to think that the woman you really love will never grow old to you. Through the wrinkles of time, through the mask of years, if you really love her, you will always see the face you loved and won. And a woman who really loves a man does not see that he grows old; he is not decrepit to her; he does not tremble; he is not old; she always sees the same gallant gentleman who won her hand and heart. I like to think of it in that way; I like to think that love is eternal. And to love in that way and then go down the hill of life together, and as you go down, hear, perhaps, the laughter of grandchildren, while the birds of joy and love sing once more in the leafless branches of the tree of age.”