… I told him I was so happy that I had nothing else to pray for. ‘Why,’says I, I’ve got prayers to sell.

Stories were a living thing. They changed to suit the teller or the times.

She wasn’t any bigger than a minute and had hair like wild gold, and she was always merry as a marriage bell.

You know what a storyteller is, don’t you? It’s a person that has a good memory who hopes other people don’t.

Don’t mind her. She keeps her nose so high in the air, she’s liable to drown in a good rainstorm.

A quilt circle’s like a crazy quilt. You got all kinds in it. Some members are the big pieces of velvet or brocade, show-offish, while others are bitty scraps of used goods, hoping you don’t...

Jam on a winter took away the blue devils. It was like tasting summer.