The sun lay like a friendly arm across her shoulder.

The individual man is transitory, but the pulse of life and of growth goes on after he is gone, buried under a wreath of magnolia leaves.

A woman has got to love a bad man once or twice in her life, to be thankful for a good one

Sorrow was like the wind. It came in gusts.

A part of the placidity of the South comes from the sense of well-being that follows the heart-and-body-warming consumption of breads fresh from the oven. We serve cold baker's bread to our enemies, trusting that they will never impose on our hospitality again.

No man should have proprietary rights over land who does not use that land wisely and lovingly.