Her Laughter Was A Shiny

Happiness Is An Accident Of Nature, A Beautiful And Flawless Aberration.

There Are No Verdicts To Childhood, Only Consequences, And The Bright Freight Of Memory.

South Carolina Is Not A State; It Is A Cult.

I Learned That If I Could Read, I Could Cook. I Surprised Myself I Like It.

Her Library Would Have Been Valuable To A Bibliophile Except She Treated Her Books Execrably. I Would Rarely Open A Volume That She Had Not Desecrated By Underlining Her Favorite Sections With A Ball-point Pen. Once I Had Told Her That I Would Rather See A Museum Bombed Than A Book Underlined, But She Dismissed My Argument As Mere Sentimentality. She Marked Her Books So That Stunning Images And Ideas Would Not Be Lost To Her.