“This is a place where grandmothers hold babies on their laps under the stars and whisper in their ears that the lights in the sky are holes in the floor of heaven.” LightHeavenStarsSkyBabyEarsHolesGrandmotherLapGrandmaWhispering Author:Rick Bragg
“When you're a sportswriter, you learn how to use your imagination and to flex your literary muscle, because it's the same game played over and over again. There's nothing unique or marvelous. It's not an earthquake, or a weird mass murder. It's just the same old game played over and over, and you have to bring out the personalities. You have to drag them kicking and screaming out into the light of day, or you're not a good sportswriter.” UseLightGamesImaginationPersonalityMassUniqueMurderMusclesDragMarvelousEarthquakesKicking Author:Rick Bragg
“I began reading Harper Lee's novel in the skimpy shade of a pine outside my grandmother's house, fat beagles pressing against me, begging for attention, ignored. At dark, I kept reading, first on the couch, a bologna sandwich in one hand, then in my bed, by the light of a 60-watt bulb hanging from the ceiling on an orange drop cord. When my mother came in from her job as a maid and unplugged my chandelier, I replayed the story in my head until it was crowded out by dreams. I woke the next morning, smelling biscuits, and reached for the book again.” FirstsBookStoriesDreamHandsLightJobsMotherReadingNextHouseDarkAttentionMorningNovelBedFatsGrandmotherShadeIgnoredOrangeMy GrandmotherSandwichesCouchesCrowdedCeilingsBeggingMaidsCordsBulbsBiscuitsHarperChandeliersBolognaBeagles Author:Rick Bragg
