“There are parents who use their small children as weapons. They are weak people. Sick people. And their children are watching them, watching how Mom and Dad use them as weapons.” — Brenda Sutton Rose Copy Share Image
“The guitar breathed. It inhaled and exhaled, and music filled the shop as the instrument picked the heartbreak of generations.” — Brenda Sutton Rose Copy Share
“The guitar poured out its soul, its history, its dreams, its pain, its victories, its secrets. The guitar’s strings purred with blues and ended… — Brenda Sutton Rose Copy Share
“This land pulses with life. It breathes in me; it breathes around me; it breathes in spite of me. When I walk on this… — Brenda Sutton Rose Copy Share
“A real musician ain’t gonna choose his own guitar like an evil master choosing his slave. The guitar will choose his master and when… — Brenda Sutton Rose Copy Share
“She struts into the hair salon, her mouth filled with a rotten egg of gossip, unshelled, filled with decay. As soon as she sits… — Brenda Sutton Rose Copy Share
“My calloused hands tell the story of my life. I’ve loved these fields more than a man can love anything outside his family. I’m… — Brenda Sutton Rose Copy Share
“There’s secrets hiding inside this six-string just waitin’ for somebody to find ‘em and turn ‘em into music.” — Brenda Sutton Rose Copy Share
“He chose a guitar from one of the oak cabinets. Picking it with his calloused fingers, he squeezed his eyes shut and hummed. Something… — Brenda Sutton Rose Copy Share
“The place cast a spell on me, a lovely spell that seduced me one one breath at a time.” — Brenda Sutton Rose Copy Share
“Jasmine felt a sense of power in cooking. It was she who controlled the ingredients, she who controlled the menus, and she who controlled… — Brenda Sutton Rose Copy Share
“There are parents who use their small children as weapons. They are weak people. Sick people. And their children are watching them, watching how… — Brenda Sutton Rose Copy Share
“I asked about the price of the guitars, reminding him that if expected me to man the cash register, I’d need to know what… — Brenda Sutton Rose Copy Share
“I’m not made for city streets. My brogans drop soil from the field behind me, each grain of dirt like a seed revealing who… — Brenda Sutton Rose Copy Share
“So that I might face my past, I dug these words from the richest southern soil and held them in my hands like seeds… — Brenda Sutton Rose Copy Share
“By noon, silence arrives one last time, flowing into every space of her room. And before long, silence swallows sound and color and seconds… — Brenda Sutton Rose Copy Share
