“This dawns on her with the unkindness of a heart attack and she sits up in bed to get a closer look at her thoughts, which have collected above her in the dark” (Pigs 3).
"Flapping to stay balanced, he makes the long branch bob and sway like a carnival ride” (Pigs 6).
“Aloneness is her inheritance, like the deep heartline that breaks into match sticks across her palm” (Pigs 23).
"Jax’s adoration is like the gift of a huge, scuffling white rabbit held up at arms length for her to take. Or a European vacation. Something you can never give back” (Pigs 31).
“The words ‘a more friendly meeting of minds’ are smacking like angry pent-up bees against the inside of her head” (Pigs 78).
“A stewardess is coming slowly down the aisle taking people’s plastic cups away, like a patient mother removing toys her babies might try to swallow” (Pigs 127).
“After the van had come to a respectable standstill, the dog simply got up and walked back to the rear of the van, making Taylor feel terrible, the way people do when you step on their toes and they sigh but don’t say a word” (Pigs 199).
“They look like birds trying to fly against a hurricane” (Pigs 250).
“She can feel sadness rising off him in waves, the way you feel heat from a child with a fever” (Pigs 254).
“I’ve seen babies carried off with no more thought than you’d give a bag of brown sugar you picked up at the market” (Pigs 284).
“She stares at the symmetrical rows of holes in the metal back of the telephone hutch. Her life feels exactly that meaningless” (Pigs 291).
“Alice hovers for a moment the way a female dragonfly will, before committing her future, laying her eggs on the water. Finally she plunges. Sits and takes off her shoes” (Pigs 311).
“Since her arrival in Oklahoma, she has felt her color as a kind of noticeable heat rising off her skin, something like a light bulb mistakenly left on and burning in a roomful of people who might disapprove” (Pigs 318).
~Father Nature, Editor