Where the Crawdads Sing

by Delia Owens

Kya laid her hand upon the breathing, wet earth, and the marsh became her mother.

His dad had told him many times that the definition of a real man is one who cries without shame, reads poetry with his heart, feels opera in his soul, and does what’s necessary to defend a woman.

“And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar; And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said, ‘Please close that door. It’s fine in here, but I greatly fear you’ll let in the cold and storm— Since I left Plumtree down in Tennessee, it’s the first time I’ve been warm.’”

There are some who can live without wild things, and some who cannot.’”

whisper. “I wadn’t aware that words could hold so much. I didn’t know a sentence could be so full.”

“Well, we better hide way out there where the crawdads sing. I pity any foster parents who take you on.” Tate’s whole face smiled.

“Just means far in the bush where critters are wild, still behaving like critters. Now, you got any ideas where we can meet?”

Within all the worlds of biology, she searched for an explanation of why a mother would leave her offspring.

She laughed for his sake, something she’d never done. Giving away another piece of herself just to have someone else.