Quotes from Craig Johnson

He studied me. "You were in Nam?" I nodded. "Yep." He turned to Lolo. "Hey, Chief, how many Vietnam vets does it take to screw in a lightbulb?" She stared at him. "I don't know." He pointed his cigar at her in an agitated fashion. "That's right, because you weren't there, man!" We

We shared a family-style bucket of chicken from the Busy Bee; I had three pieces and he had thirteen, along with all the coleslaw, baked beans, six biscuits, and four cans of iced tea." p. 151, 152

He said that it's like losing a part of yourself, but worse because we're left with who we are after, and sometimes we don't recognize that person.

You collect things as you go—the things you think are important—and soon they weigh you down until you realize that these things you cared so much about mean nothing at all. Our natures are our natures." He grunted. "And they are all we are left with.

stop groaned with the wind that had

He said okay, probably because I asked him twice and he had been taught that if somebody asks you something twice you say yes, no matter what it is.

I was going through that little bit of worry that I had said or done something wrong and that she might not want to see me again. I saw me every day, and I wasn't so sure I was that fond of my company.

Like anything else, I think organized religion, like most human endeavors, is good when it's doing good and I think it's bad when it's doing bad.

deflated, revealing the systolic blood

I'm sorrowed to see the time spent in the echoing halls of criminal investigation have done nothing to curb your native vulgarity." They

I glanced at the posture. "Look, I know you think you've got the original franchise on grief, but there's a lot of it flying around these days and most of us just suck it up and do what we can to help each other, you know?

You know the difference between firefighters and Boy Scouts?" "What?" "Boy Scouts have adult supervision.

that the brutes of the field don't feel pain like humans. That that's the price we pay for thinking.

The rush of information came running in like a waterfall, filling me with the thought that hatred has a poor shelf life but that hope and love can limp along together forever.

Last word from her was that Paris, half of Omar's money, and none of him was suiting her just fine." She

Look . . ." I dreaded female statements that started with "look." In my limited experience, there was nowhere to hide after they were made.

Hey, there was this Indian woman hitchhiking back to the Rez in the middle of the night and this white woman picks her up. The Indian woman says, 'Hey, thanks for picking me up. What are you doing out on the road this late?' The white woman points to a bottle in a brown paper bag sitting on the seat between them and says, 'I got this bottle of wine for my husband.' The Indian woman nodded, 'Good trade.'" Lolo

And in case you haven't noticed, John's dead, Bobby's dead, and Martin's dead, and not a damn thing has changed—people still hang by their tribe. That's all we are, just a loose coalition of tribes.

You know, Balzac once described bureaucracy as a giant mechanism operated by pygmies." "What'd your buddy Balzac have to say about inadmissible evidence?" "Not a lot. I think he considered the subject beneath him.

How could she let herself get involved in an abusive relationship like that?" "You mean the daughter you raised?" I didn't say anything. "It can happen to anyone, that's the point.

I took the luxury of watching the crows playing tag above our heads for a moment more, the graceful arc of their patterns intertwining in figure eights of infinity. That was probably our job here, to keep going and to do it with as much artistry and beauty as our hearts could bear.

I placed the narrow butt plate against the deep bruise on my shoulder. It fit my wound perfectly. I raised the barrel toward Main Street and envisioned Italian buffalo sitting at a street-side café, drinking Chianti.

After the war, Lucian had drifted back to Wyoming and then back to Absaroka County. He then drifted into being sheriff on the strength of his being the toughest piece of gristle in four states.

Do you ever get the feeling that the world is tired, Walter?' I stood there, not quite sure of what to say next. He looked embarrassed. 'I'm sorry. I sometimes forget myself and wax philosophic in the afternoons.' I walked over to the door and pushed it open, pausing to lean against the frame. 'I don't know about the world, but I sure as hell get that way.' He smiled, I smiled, and I left.