“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.”

“Life goes on, whether you like it or not. I just wished it could lurch forward. Time is the best doctor, they say, and thats bullshit, because from certain pains you can never heal. They keep screa...”

“When his wife was at his side, she was also in front of him, marking out the horizon of his life. Now the horizon is empty: the view has changed.”

“My heart was oaken before you set it on fire. It will continue to smolder, long after the flame that ignited it has gone.”

“She was of the stuff of which great men's mothers are made. She was indispensable to high generation, feared at tea-parties, hated in shops, and loved at crises.”

“For we think back through our mothers if we are women.”

“He is a young man with a future of power and opportunity and we are young women destined to be either wives and mothers at the very best, or spinster parasites at the worst.”