Sandra Dallas Quotes

Love is not limited.

I told him I was so happy that I had nothing else to pray for. 'Why,'says I, I've got prayers to sell.

Both of them loved the earth and the things that grew in it.

She wasn't any bigger than a minute and had hair like wild gold, and she was always merry as a marriage bell.

There's a special kind of man who plants a tree when he knows he'll move on before it's big enough for him to sit in it's shade.

Jam on a winter took away the blue devils. It was like tasting summer.

Proverbs 31:27: She looketh well to the way of her household and eateth not the bread of idleness.

We women always feel guilt, even about things that can't be helped.

Emma fussed with the cinnamon-rose starts she had planted all over the backyard. She was as tender with the roses as if they were her children, and every hour or two she watered them.

Sophie Kruger had worked in a house herself, up in Middle Swan. But now she pretended she was quality. There were none so self-righteous as those who rewrote their past.

The thing I'm writing now, I have various characters, and all of a sudden, out of nowhere, this couple dies. And they have a daughter ... I thought, 'OK, we have to do something with the daughter' ... then I realized she's not really their daughter. She has her own story. And she's become the most interesting character. She was this throwaway character that I didn't even conceive of before I started writing her into it, and now she's become very important in this book.

I don't know how a woman can have such a poor view of herself as to show off poor stitching.

You know what a storyteller is, don't you? It's a person that has a good memory who hopes other people don't.

Will was dead, but Missouri Ann was going to have a baby. Birth and death were God's way, she told herself. Joy and sorrow were joined together.

The Red Kimono tells it all - the bitterness and pain as well as the joy, pride and patriotism of a people too resilient to be beaten by racism.

Hennie replies to, How are you doing? 'I'm deteriorating at a normal rate.

for pleasing to me are meadows and a far view

When it's raining pudding, hold up your bowl.

Missouri Ann ate her bit of orange slowly. "Tastes like summer," she said.

Stories were a living thing. They changed to suit the teller or the times.

A quilt circle's like a crazy quilt. You got all kinds in it. Some members are the big pieces of velvet or brocade, show-offish, while others are bitty scraps of used goods, hoping you don't notice them. But without each and every one, the quilt would fall apart. There's big and small, old and new, fancy and plain in a quilt circle. Some you like better than the others. We have our differences, and Monalisa is a trial, but it's a surprise how we all come together over the quilt frame, even Monalisa. We're as thick as a lettuce bed.

Marriage has taught me that women are the only ones who apologize.

It was marrying that made women appreciate other women.

After all, a woman didn't leave much behind in the world to show she'd been there. Even the children she bore and raised got their father's name. But her quilts, now that was something she could pass on.