Quotes by Brenda Sutton Rose

“These babies aint just guitars; these babies are living, breathing instruments.”

“When you scratch these guitars, they bleed.”

“Theres secrets hiding inside this six-string just waitin for somebody to find em and turn em into music.”

“As he farmed, hard labor left his hands callused, the sun bleached his hair, his face leathered, and his heart throbbed with music.”

“STAINSWith red clay between my toes,and the sun setting over my head,the ghost of my mother blows in,riding on a honeysuckle breeze, oh lord,riding on a honeysuckle breeze.Her teeth, the keys of a ...”

“A song rises up from the belly of my pastand rocks me in the bosom of buried memories.”

“The truth had lacerated him to the bone, had punctured his heart, and had ripped through his soul. The truth had slain him and tended to his wounds. The truth had hated him and loved him. The truth...”

“My mothers dress bears the stains of her life:blueberries, blood, bleach, and breast milk;She cradles in her arms a lifetime of love and sorrow;Its brilliance nearly blinds me.”

“The guitar poured out its soul, its history, its dreams, its pain, its victories, its secrets. The guitars strings purred with blues and ended with a haunting solitary song with no lyrics.”

“The guitar breathed. It inhaled and exhaled, and music filled the shop as the instrument picked the heartbreak of generations.”

“A real musician aint gonna choose his own guitar like an evil master choosing his slave. The guitar will choose his master and when he does, youll know it.”

“The place cast a spell on me, a lovely spell that seduced me one one breath at a time.”

“When his wounds cut too deep for the blues--when he couldn't sing himself out of his own sorrow--when he was too wounded to shimmy his fingers over piano keys--he came to the healing waters of the ...”

“When a man's running, he seldom looks back.”

“Songs. Books. Poetry. Paintings. These things reveal truth. I believe lies and truth are tangled together.”

“I could go to a dozen houses, scrape away the dirt, and find his footprints, but my own prints evaporated before I ever looked back.”

“Ask me about my childhood, and I will tell you to walk to the edge of the woods with a choir of crickets chirping from every direction, a hot, humid breeze brushing through your hair, your feet, ba...”

“There are parents who use their small children as weapons. They are weak people. Sick people. And their children are watching them, watching how Mom and Dad use them as weapons.”

“She struts into the hair salon, her mouth filled with a rotten egg of gossip, unshelled, filled with decay. As soon as she sits down she bites into the shell, and the stink of her lies fills the ai...”

“Im not made for city streets. My brogans drop soil from the field behind me, each grain of dirt like a seed revealing who I am. My heart belongs in the country. Im a farmer, and I was shaped in the...”