Quotes from Charles Martin

You hang around people long enough and you learn their tells. Pain has a way of exiting the body, and most will let you know when it's on its way out. Seldom do they know what their "tell" is telling you. Most often it's silent. Sometimes it can be loud. However it comes out, it leaves a trail. Jittery fingers. Itchy skin. Headaches. Always tired. Always hungry. There are hundreds, I guess.

The people who are really thirsty aren't going to church on Sunday. They're driving around this lake, running from their secrets, looking for a good, quiet, fill-your-stomach place to eat.

Lord, You're the only one here who knows what You're doing, so we ask that You come hang out with us a bit. Be the guest of honor at this table. Fill our conversations, our time, and our hearts. For"—Charlie pointed his voice in my direction—" they are the wellspring of life.

All hearts have but one request. One simple, unspoken, undeniable need. One undeniable fear. To be known. You can stamp it out. Kill it. Box it up and hem it in. Numb it and close the door. Bury it and nail it shut. Encase it in stone. But eventually, the needs of the heart will tear the door off the hinges, unearth it, and crack the stone. No prison ever built could house it. Those of us who think we can are lying to ourselves. And those next to us. Hope never dies.

In school, I sat in the back, seldom raising my hand and never raising my voice. But the absence of verbal expression did not mean I was dull to the needs of others. Didn't mean I couldn't think and feel. Didn't absorb. I thought and felt just fine. Absorbed like a sponge. My peripheral vision was twenty-ten. I cried when strangers hurt. Laughed when others smiled.

There, on that bank, soaked in that water, basking in that sun-shine, lying on that man's chest, I hoped for the first time that my real dad would never show up and take me home.

She curled my hand into a fist and showed it to me. "Life is a battle, but you can't fight it with your fists." She gently tapped me on the chin with my fist and then put her hand on my chest. "You got to fight it with your heart." She pulled me back to her chest and sucked through her teeth like she was trying to pick the corn out with her tongue. "If your knuckles are bloodier than your knees, then you're fighting the wrong battle.

If you're riding a dead horse… dismount.

And God? He's in these hills because we are. No matter how far you run, you can't shake Him. Maybe Davis and I know that best, but Emma knew it first, and Saint Augustine said it best: You stir man to take pleasure in praising You, because You have made us for Yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in You.

Hatred is a commodity I couldn't afford in prison. Too expensive then. Too expensive now... I couldn't live every day with that stuff bubbling up inside me.... Gage taught me that. He found me in a bad place. Picked me up. Showed me I had a choice. I couldn't change my circumstances, but I had a lot to say about who I was in the midst of them. And who I became. Gage helped me, showed me, how to lay it down.

He said he gave up what he couldn't keep to gain what he couldn't lose.

I love them without trying to change them. I look at their suffering, their hopelessness, and while I'd like to wave a hand and fix it, I can't, so I do what I can... Climb down in their misery and love them where they are... People would much rather die holding someone's hand than live alone.