Now Livie's gone west, out of the dust, on her way to California, where the wind takes a rest sometimes. And I'm wondering what kind of friend I am, wanting my feet on that road to another place,instead of Livie's. — Karen Hesse Copy Share Image
“I have a hunger, for more than food. I have a hunger bigger than Joyce City. I want tongues to tie, and eyes to shine at me like they do at Mad Dog Craddock. Course they never will, not with my hands all scarred up, looking like the earth itself, all parched and rough and cracking, but if I played… — Karen Hesse Copy Share
“Anyway, this time I caught her in the slow stirring of biscuits, her mind on other things, but anyhow, she was distracted enough, I… — Karen Hesse Copy Share Image
I hear the first drops. Like the tapping of a stranger at the door of a dream, the rain changes everything. — Karen Hesse Copy Share Image
As long as you live, it is never too late to make amends. Take my advice, child. Don't waste your precious life with regrets… — Karen Hesse Copy Share Image
And I know now that all the time I was trying to get out of the dust, the fact is, what I am, I… — Karen Hesse Copy Share Image
“Daddy named me Billie Jo. He wanted a boy. Instead, he got a long legged girl with a wide mouth with cheekbones like bicycle… — Karen Hesse Copy Share Image
“We might not belong to anyone else in this whole world. But us Faulstiches,we belong to each other.” — Karen Hesse Copy Share Image
The work of one author or artist may stimulate another author or artist to push the edge, to take the risk, to go where… — Karen Hesse Copy Share Image
“Apples Ma's apple blossoms have turned to hard green balls. To eat them now, so tart, would turn my mouth inside out, would make my stomach groan. But in just a couple months, after the baby is born, those apples will be ready and we'll make pies and sauce and pudding and dumplings and cake and cobbler and have just… — Karen Hesse Copy Share
I have earned wages as a waitress, a nanny, a librarian, a personnel officer, an agricultural laborer, an advertising secretary, a typesetter, a proofreader,… — Karen Hesse Copy Share Image
My father and I, we can't soothe each other. I'm too young, he's too old, and we don't know how to talk anymore if… — Karen Hesse Copy Share Image
When Ma died, I didn't know how to go on, either. I don't know how. I don't feel the same know, not exactly. Now that I see that one day comes after another and you get through them one measure at a time. But I'd like to go, not like Fonda Nye, I don't want to die, I just want… — Karen Hesse Copy Share
