140 Quotes by Daniel Woodrell

It’s not always to the benefit of the story to have it so preordained.

I’ve bumped into at least three people in town who all insist ‘Winter’s Bone’ is about them.

I’d get lost without the weight of you two on my shoulders.

A person has to show some spirit – fate just about never shines on chickenshits.

Ree needed often to inject herself with pleasant sounds, stab those sounds past the constant screeching, squalling hubbub regular life raised inside her spirit, poke the soothing sounds past that racket and down deep where her jittering soul paced on a stone slab in a gray room, agitated and endlessly provoked but yearning to hear something that might bring a moment’s rest.

Nobody here wants to be awful,” he said. He hopped a little as he zipped up. “It’s just nobody here knows all the rules yet, and that makes a rocky time.

Ice slipped from everything, limb, twig, stump, rock, and cascaded chinking to ground. Mist lifted from the bottoms to lie over the tracks but did not lift much above her head. Mist smeared like tears squashed on her cheeks.

There’s an overlap between social-realist fiction and crime fiction – a sweet spot there.

Gail had a baby named Ned who was four months old, and a new look of baffled hurt, a left-behind sadness, like she saw that the great world kept spinning onward and away while she’d overnight become glued to her spot.