Well, for one, you walk around like you’re so much better than everyone else. We’re all a bunch of soulless animals or somethin’ in your eyes, I guess. You’re the high and mighty one and I ain’t fit to drink your piss.

Ain’t no good ever comes of it, if you ain’t steering yourself.

Was Jane now. All Jane. Come calamity or come calm, was myself and none else.

But tell you true, I honestly didn’t think nothing about the Green Man beefing that posse. Was just men and the world’s full of them.

Jack glanced toward the dressing room, not believing that all the time he had been with her, she had been half-naked...

Maybe I’d lost something. Maybe I’d lost a lot—more, even, than I could suffer—but I still had my own self. And lonesome as I might be, wasn’t no force on Earth or from above what could make me less.

I confess [Election] is a hard doctrine, running contrary to our earthly ideas of fair play, but I can see no way around it. Read I Corinthians 6:13 and II Timothy 1:9,10. Also I Peter 1:2,19,20 and Romans 11:7. There you have it. It was good for Paul and Silas and it is good enough for me. It is good enough for you too.

Becca watched Tucker bend at the waist. Mmm, mmm. He was sure built nice. From the top of his felt hat to the tips of his worn leather boots. Those leather chaps he'd just slung around his hips weren't too bad, either. He reached back to buckle the chap straps first around one jean-clad thigh, and then the other. And she'd thought the rodeo would be boring. Ha! She could watch Tucker do this all day. Buckle and unbuckle. Bend and stand. She let out a sign filled with pure contentment. 'All right, Em. I'll admit it. Cowboys are hot.' Next to her, Emma laughed. 'Oh, yeah.

Gentle With Them Thar Spurs'—a sequel to 'Riders of the Purple Sau-Sage.' Spurs was the feminist novel of its day…which was Tuesday.' —Bats 2015.

A scratching of melody comes from the radio, chords rising open as the land that carries us, rhythm mimicking our passage down the road, harmony making this life seem it should be only that. We sing along to what songs have always been about- beginning, going on, breaking up, forgiving, We sing in missed words and broken phrases as glints of tiger moths fly at us like snow, streaking the windshield over.