The Bean Trees

by Barbara Kingsolver

she knew her name about as far as a cat ever does, which means that when you said it she would look up if she was in the right mood.

She was really nice to Roger, even though he was bald

Even a spotted pig looks black at night. This is another thing Mama used to tell me quite often. It means that things always look different, and usually better, in the morning.

There is no point in treating a depressed person as though she were just feeling sad, saying, There now, hang on, you’ll get over it. Sadness is more or less like a head cold—with patience, it passes. Depression is like cancer.

I just kept saying how this world was a terrible place to try and bring up a child in. And Lou Ann kept saying, For God’s sake, what other world have we got?

A night-blooming cereus, Virgie Mae explained. The flowers open for only one night of the year, and then they are gone.

I told him I had seen military macaws at the zoo, and wondered if the quetzal was anything like those. He said no. If you tried to keep this bird in a cage, it died.

After a while Estevan said, “What I really hate is not belonging in any place. To be unwanted everywhere.”

The wisteria vines on their own would just barely get by, is how I explained it to Turtle, but put them together with rhizobia and they make miracles.