“ The guitar breathed. It inhaled and exhaled, and music filled the shop as the instrument picked the heartbreak of generations. Brenda Sutton Rose
“ With red clay between my toes,and the sun setting over my head,the ghost of my mother blows in,riding on a honeysuckle breeze, oh lord,riding on a honeysuckle breeze. Brenda Sutton Rose
“ Ask me about my childhood, and I will tell you to walk to the edge of the woods with a choir of crickets chirping from every direction, a hot, humid breeze brushing through your hair, your feet, bare… Brenda Sutton Rose
“ I could go to a dozen houses, scrape away the dirt, and find his footprints, but my own prints evaporated before I ever looked back. Brenda Sutton Rose
“ He takes a draw on a cigarette, blows out a smoky ghost. I reach to catch the phantom in my hands, but it eludes me. I've been trying to catch a ghost for as long as I can remember. Brenda Sutton Rose
“ The place cast a spell on me, a lovely spell that seduced me one one breath at a time. Brenda Sutton Rose
“ A song rises up from the belly of my pastand rocks me in the bosom of buried memories. Brenda Sutton Rose
“ Kevin knew he had to always outrun the enemy inside him, and if that meant playing football, he'd do it. During puberty, he had taken off running and found too late that he couldn't stop. In dreams th… Brenda Sutton Rose
“ The wind whirls and whistles and strip pink blooms from the mimosas, scatters twigs, broken limbs, pine needles and pine cones across our yard, and robs the pecan trees of a thousand leaves. The storm… Brenda Sutton Rose
“ By noon, silence arrives one last time, flowing into every space of her room. And before long, silence swallows sound and color and seconds and equations and entire stanzas of old poetry, leaving new… Brenda Sutton Rose
“ Songs. Books. Poetry. Paintings. These things reveal truth. I believe lies and truth are tangled together. Brenda Sutton Rose
“ 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
“ As he farmed, hard labor left his hands callused, the sun bleached his hair, his face leathered, and his heart throbbed with music. Brenda Sutton Rose
“ If he could do one thing, he could run. He had spent his life running, secrets spitting at his back. Brenda Sutton Rose
“ 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 I am. My heart belongs in the country. I’m a farmer, and I was shaped in the… Brenda Sutton Rose
“ Although I wasn't there to bear witness, I imagine Lot's wife scanned the masses for her children. Perhaps she sought out the curves of their mouths and the shapes of their faces, trying to memorize h… Brenda Sutton Rose
“ My mama steps out of her dressand drops it, an inheritance falling to my feet.She stands alone: bathed, blooming,burdened with nothing of this world.Her body is naked and beautiful,her wings gray and… Brenda Sutton Rose
“ Life can surprise you. You want something with every ounce of blood that flows in your veins, and then one day it's yours. Right there before you. Everything. You break out in a cold sweat with the un… Brenda Sutton Rose
“ As I string, a swift rhythm is played out with my hands, a cadence known only to those who have strung tobacco. To many of the poor workers, the meter and rhythm of stringing tobacco is the only poetr… Brenda Sutton Rose
