“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.”

“I seem to have run in a great circle, and met myself again on the starting line.”

“I'm not the kind of faggot who wants to put a rainbow sticker on a machine gun.”

“And isn't love between two people better than hatred, in this world of violence and mourning? There seemed to me a fragile kindness in their love that survived through this poisonous war. Even thou...”

“The thoughts that occur to me while Im running are like clouds in the sky. Clouds of all different sizes. They come and they go, while the sky remains the same sky always. The clouds are mere guest...”

“Running cleared the day's cobwebs from my mind and focused my thinking, and gave me time and space to sort out anything that was bothering me, or to detach and think of nothing at all.”

“When Douglas walked, his mind ran, when he ran, his mind walked.”