“In the country Sunday is the day on which you do exactly as much work as you do on other days but feel guilty all the time you are doing it because Sunday is a day of rest.”

I want them either intellectually stimulating or wonderfully corny; perfectly charming or hundred percent stinker.

Our little room was morbidly quiet and sorrow was heaped in my corner like dirty snow.

I like my chosen companions to be distinguishable from the undulating masses and I don’t care how.

There’s nothing as cozy as a piece of candy and a book.

a grudge will soon rot the pocket you carry it in.

I’ll do it because I want to but not because you tell me to!

In the country, weather is as important as food and sometimes means the difference between life and death.

Almost anybody would rather be known for expert shoe-tying than for kicking the cat.” She always tells whiners how charming they are–bullies how brave–bad sports how good–sneaks how honest!

I am neither Christian enough nor charitable enough to like anybody just because he is alive and breathing. I want people to interest or amuse me. I want them fascinating and witty or so dul as to be different.

Colombia is not how people think it is. We used to eat fish every Sunday at the beach. In the town where I grew up, people did not tell lies.

People went to war as a result of it and even today, every Sunday.

It is Sunday, mid-morning-Sunday in the living room, Sunday in the kitchen, Sunday in the woodshed, Sunday down the road in the village: I hear the bells, calling me to share God’s grace.

Nothing is so musical as the sound of pouring bourbon for the first drink on a Sunday morning. Not Bach or Schubert or any of those masters.

My chief objection is that 99% of sermons and Sunday School teachings are so agonizingly dull.

I’m always playing on Sunday, and that’s tough because I really never get to take the sacrament – maybe once every three or four months when I’m home and have a week off.

I wear green on Sunday because it’s my mom’s favorite color, but green goes pretty well on Sunday at the Masters, too.

I spent a year in that town, one Sunday.