“And the dusk, the gritty Southern grayness of it, its harsh gathering, stopped Joe Howard from seeing out beyond the solitude of his own reflection, a soldier’s reflection: dark hair, a trimmed mustache, eyes he didn’t bother looking into, and… — Deborah Johnson Copy Share Image
“Outside, it was coming on night. Twilight. “The magic time,” his daddy called it, “the make-a-wish moment between the dark and the light.” — Deborah Johnson Copy Share Image
“Regina read all this, thinking with each sentence she'd put the book down. But a sentence became a paragraph, which flowed on into a… — Deborah Johnson Copy Share Image
“When people give one star ratings, they seem to be trying to make a point. In my opinion, one star ratings don't make a… — Deborah Johnson Copy Share Image
“She had a beautiful voice, slow, rich, and deep, a voice that thoroughly frosted its phrases and laid them out like so many carmel… — Deborah Johnson Copy Share Image
“And the dusk, the gritty Southern grayness of it, its harsh gathering, stopped Joe Howard from seeing out beyond the solitude of his own… — Deborah Johnson Copy Share Image
