You’ve gone far away to a place with no horses and very little grass, and you’re studying how to write a story with a happy ending. If you can write that ending for yourself, maybe you can come back.

He was the oldest. When we left Kentucky, our folks told him to look after me. Didn't say a word to me. Wouldn't have occurred to them.

Leaving the feasibility of testicular transplants alone for the moment, she said, “It was mostly my mistake.

You. Aren’t you one of those Morgan boys? You must be the bad one.

Lust was edging confusion for the lead. Good sense had fallen far behind.

…It was like he waved his magic wang, and I totally forgot how I’m not a gullible teenager anymore.

The ground had opened up and spit out hell, Nell thought, and the detritus was Shiloh.

Bourbon, Kentucky bourbon especially, is like Dante’s Inferno in a glass, fire walks down your throat, lungs, and heart and everything in between with an unpleasant after-taste. We got along just fine.

In August, an inescapable blanket of heat settled over Paducah, the last gasping breath of summer roaring its weight out over the populace.