“Seasons didn’t come behind the nicotine-stained walls of Mountain City’s prison, so Harm always imagined it spring – the locust trees clustered with shaggy white blooms, the wet woods flecked with bloodroot, and wild roses and honeysuckle flashing white among the chestnuts on the mountainsides...”

“Seasons didn’t come behind the nicotine-stained walls of Mountain City’s prison, so Harm always imagined it spring – the locust trees clustered with shaggy white blooms, the wet woods flecked with bloodroot, and wild roses and honeysuckle flashing white among the chestnuts on the mountainsides...”

— Sharyn McCrumb