Quotes from Leif Enger

Sometimes heroism is nothing more than patience, curiosity, and a refusal to panic.

Pride is the rope God allows us all.

Good advice is a wise man's friend, of course; but sometimes it just flies on past, and all you can do is wave.

You can't kill history. You can't shoot it with a bullet and watch it recede into whatever lies outside of memory. History is tougher than that—if it's going to die, it has to die on its own

Hope is like yeast, you know, rising under warmth.

Pride is the rope God allows us all.

Once in my life I knew a grief so hard I could actually hear it inside, scraping at the lining of my stomach, an audible ache, dredging with hooks as rivers are dredged when someone's been missing too long.

You never like it to happen, for something as hopeful and sudden as a January thaw to come to an end, but end it does, and then you want to have some quilts around.

It's possible to perceive what is coming and still be dumbfounded when it happens.

A line only gets grace when it curves, you know.

I prayed the Lord would sort (my prayers) out and answer as needed. Above all that he would hurry.

Before reaching Grassy Butte, though, Dad spied a farmhouse with two pumps in the drive and a red-and-white sign out front saying DALE'S OIL COMPANY. Another sign said CLOSED, but a light was on in the house and Dad pulled in, saying, I believe we might prevail on Dale. What do you think? Prevail on Dale, I repeated to Swede. To make a sale, she added. And if we fail, we'll whale on Dale-- Till he needs braille! Will you guys desist? Dad asked.

Someday, you know, we're going to be shown the great ledger of our recorded decisions-a dread concept you nonetheless know in your deepest soul is true.

We beat the drum slowly and played the fife lowly, and bitterly wept as we bore him along. For we all loved our comrade so brave, young and handsome, we all loved our comrade although he'd done wrong. The Cowboy's Lament

What makes a Samaritan good is the possibility of the lunge.

When did it come to Davy Land that exile is a country of shifting borders, hard to quit yet hard to endure, no matter your wide shoulders, no matter your toughened heart?

The evidence of my life lay before me, and I was unconvinced.

Sometimes it seems every woman I meet is more than a match for me.

Your tribe is always bigger than you think.

I felt laden. Air itself has weight and mass, and Kansas had the most air of anywhere I'd ever been.

You can embark on new and steeper versions of your old sin, you know, and cry tears doing it that are genuine as any.

They came one at a time or in shy small groups. I remember when sea-kindly showed up, a sentimental favorite, followed by desiccated and massive. Brusque appeared all by itself, which seemed apt; merry and boisterous arrived together. This would be a good time to ask for your patience if I use an adjective too many now and again—even now, some years on, they're still returning. I'm just so glad to see them.

Yes, yes sir—routine is worry's sly assassin.

Say what you like about melodrama, it beats confusion. The truth is we ought have a chance to say a little something when it's getting dark. We ought to have a closing scene.