Kindle Notes & Highlights
LIKE MOST people, Carlisle McMillan had been shaped through chance as much as intent, by incident as much as cunning. A decision here, another one there. In restrospect, some of them good,
Carlsile
others bad. The outcomes of his choices determined by rational effort mixed with unforeseen events arching in over his shoulder on days when he least expected them. The roll and toss of ordinary existence, in other words. Uncertainty, in another word.
Carllisle
“Yeah, it’s not much fun growing up, so we beat it back long as possible, forever if we can pull it off.” “Women understand that. We see it all the time, living with the boys.” She grinned. “I’ll bet you do. And as I’ve always said, to understand
Boys geae
boy-men, you’ve got to understand gear.” “Gear?” Gally smiled. “Tell me about gear.” Carlisle was squatted down, putting more wood on the fire, talking over his shoulder. “Men like gear, all kinds of stuff. We like bags, too, since we’ve got to
Gear2
affected by the problems they
the woodstove, chickens pecking around the barnyard, square dancing in the Town Hall on Friday nights, lemonade on the porch swing, the last refuge of old-time values, including something referred to as the real America.
Version
He once said that if you cannot fasten your message on the horns of a buffalo, then send it on the wings of a butterfly. At least you sent a message, even if it rode only on a butterfly’s wings.”
Buffalo
