Quotes from Craig Johnson

Funny how your attitude about spirituality could change when the chips were down.

You know, Pete Conrad died on a motorcycle." "Who's Pete Conrad?" "The third man to walk on the moon.

We stood at the door zipping, buttoning, fastening; it's what people in Wyoming do before they go outside in late December.

Maybe that's what happens when you invest so much of yourself in something: whether it is a person or a place, your soul is loath to leave it. I looked for Danny's outline on those hills and thought maybe his ghost or spirit was still here, looking over the place that had been his. Maybe you stayed until you realized it wasn't yours anymore and then you went on your way.

Henry spoke to Dog. "Hinananjin." Dog went over and sat beside him. It had already been established that the furry brute was conversant in Cheyenne, Shoshone, Arapaho, Crow, and Lakota; English was the language he chose to sometimes ignore.

I looked at the sky with its patchwork of sun and storm clouds—the devil must be beating his wife indeed. I bet I was the only one who used that phrase anymore. I

no man has any sense till age thirty-five and damn few afterwards . . .

There is a common humanity in all of us, and if you need something from somebody, you'd better understand that—it makes the job easier. Clarence might be guilty and we need to be aware because we are in the suspicion business, but he's also a man who just lost someone who was very close to him.

I look up at the clear and beautiful gray eyes, at the winning smile of youthful invincibility, at someone far more courageous and determined than I, and sometimes I make it through the entire story. But most of the time, I don't.

I wondered about all the individuals wandering around out there who were in serious need of the administration of a dreadful ass-kicking and weren't likely to get it.

Feeling he'd captured the throng, Trost decided to get literary. "Salus populi suprema lex esto." She looked at me. "What the fuck was that?" "Cicero—the welfare of the people is the ultimate law." Vic studied the telejournalists, all of them looking a little perplexed. "Think they'll subtitle him?

Most Indians don't identify themselves as American particularly, but as members of nations unto themselves." She looked at me blankly. "A nation, like a tribe.

Wonder. There is wonder in you, along with a little impatience. You are standing outside of yourself, looking at yourself, conscious of a rhythm within yourself, several rhythms, and the sound of drums from far away.

but animals can read confidence in a fellow hunter and there's nothing more unnerving than moving in for the kill on something that shows no fear.

That's the problem with guilt, it's a two-way street; our children have to live with the things we do, and sometimes we have to live with their actions.