She tried to understand the mind of the strong, quiet man, whose skin was a map of small wrinkles around his deep blue eyes.
-Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, Faith, Hope, and Ivy June

She turned to Grandmommy. “You all right there, Iree?”
“I’m okay,” said the old woman. “But it’s the last spring.”
Ivy June and Catherine stopped chewing and looked at Grandmommy.
“Now, Iree, why would you think that?” Mammaw asked her. “When a woman lives to be a hundred, why . . . no telling how much longer she could live!”
“Last spring for somebody,” Grandmommy said, and her fingers curled and uncurled again, resting on the faded dress.
Mammaw pondered that awhile, leaning back in the rocker and letting the breeze fan her face. “Well, it’s always the last spring for somebody, Iree, but it don’t have do be you,” she said.
-Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, Faith, Hope, and Ivy June

“Last Decoration Day for somebody,” Grandmommy said, and she knows it could well be her. But she also knows that if it is her that’s gone, she’ll be buried over there beside Grandpappy, and we’ll all be there, making wreaths of summer flowers. We’ll sit in the shade with the other folks we see once a year and talk about all the times Thunder Creek was flooded, who’s moving away and who’s coming back.
-Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, Faith, Hope, and Ivy June

“Now, who gets the first slice of this coconut cake?”
Papaw closed his eyes, still smiling. “Just slice it, Emma, and let everyone have a piece. This old stomach of mine has to get used to having food in it again.”
-Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, Faith, Hope, and Ivy June

“If you do what’s right,” she said, “then at the end of your life . . . you can lie down . . . and be peaceful with yourself.”
-Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, Faith, Hope, and Ivy June

“I believe it’s ‘truth is stranger than fiction,’ Miss Dixon said. “I’m glad you remembered that.”
-Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, Faith, Hope, and Ivy June