All his toenails are gonna be red from gripping the bottom of that marsh to hold on.

She closes the door completely, and I crouch there. I allow myself to fall forward and rest my head on the door frame. My breath bleeds. My heartbeat drowns my ears.

Marsh is more pleasant to look at than kind of a mud bank.

The only one I see that jumps out is Fred Flintstone. He's married, and he's got a young child.

I didn't know there were that many red squirrels in the county,

Didn't hit enough fairways, that was the bottom line all week really,