From The Very Beginning, I Wrote To

But No One Walks Out Of His Family Without Reprisals: A Family Is Too Disciplined An Army To Offer Compassion To Its Deserters.

I Was The Only Person In The World Who Thought It Was A Military Duty To Appear To Be In A Good Mood.

My Mother, Southern To The Bone, Once Told Me, “all Southern Literature Can Be Summed Up In These Words: ‘on The Night The Hogs Ate Willie, Mama Died When She Heard What Daddy Did To Sister.’” She Raised Me Up To Be A Southern Writer, But It Wasn’t Easy.

The Great Teachers Fill You Up With Hope And Shower You With A Thousand Reasons To Embrace All Aspects Of Life. I Wanted To Follow Mr. Monte Around For The Rest Of My Life, Learning Everything He Wished To Share Of Impart, But I Didn't Know How To Ask.

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.