As I begin to describe the features, advantages and benefits of this book, the paperback reprint is selling online for almost $200 a copy.

 Chapter 1 Chapter 19

"Shirt sleeves to shirt sleeves," Hearn said, suddenly, without smiling. "That's what she kept saying."

His mind suddenly was back to the first night he had spent in Aven, a night when the fear had found him alone. That fear- part of the fight between man and cotton, or man and land, or man and grass. Bermuda grass, lacing a foot deep into the richest soil, holding it against the heavy washing rains and fattening the topsoil for the day when a man would need it. Bermuda grass, friendly at first, then a part of the fight, dirt banker for the man, then making him earn it, making him go in there with a steel beam and a bull-tongue scooter and a mule that was willing to burn itself out alongside of a man. He shuddered, then looked back up at Hearn.
 "Shirtsleeves," he said, softly,"in three generations."

"She says it looks like we're fixin' to do it in one."

 

Chapter 29

 
"Chop cotton through the sun with a limber-handled hoe that whips and never hits the right place. Shovel manure into a wagon bed and shovel it out again on a garden that's got to be fed before it can feed you. Then plow in more of the man than the manure. Do you know what it means to take a chance and leave before your hands get crooked in a mold to fit a plow stock-to leave and not care, just because nothing can be worse than what you've got?"

 

Chapter 31

 His high-heeled cowboy boots with castoff hickory-striped trousers tucked in, his too-small had dented four times in a cavalry peak, his flowered vest, and his ever-present guitar were all there to laugh at.

"Can't sleep in but one bed at a time. Can't eat but three meals a day and be comfortable, or wear more that one suit at a time. Reckon if a fellow stretched that thinking out, he'd figure anything above what he needs is like a mill rock that he's got to drag along. If that's so, I'm toting a load."

Chapter 21

page 232-233 of DEVIL MAKE A THIRD

Buck carefully set his glass down on the bar, and his eyes narrowed suddenly. 

"Something wrong?"

 "Aw, Buck, you know what was happening when you left. Preachers and deacons and sisters and Epworth Leagues. Like a bunch of wood lice eating at a tree, and you can't see them until the tree falls down."

"Is it getting worse?"

Tobe knodded and lifted his glass and drank quickly.

"Buck," he said, leaning o the bar and frowning," they started the minute you left twon, working to beat hell." He began to mimic the women. "Licensed the fancy women, taxed the gamblers, graft, ungodly, drinks too much, gambles all night, and a woman ain't safe with him. Hell-fire." Tobe suddenly spat on the floor.

Buck's face relaxed.

"Nothing new in that."

Chapter 1: Buck to Jeff

"Don't let Papa make you plow the big mule, boy," he said, "Big John'll pure pull yore arms out at the sockets. But you got to quit sleepin' in the cotton rows when you ought to be choppin'."

Chapter 3

"I ain't got time to stop and build bridges when I come to a creek. I've got to jump to stay on schedule"

"Don't whine. A thief's a thief."

Chapter 8

"Papa, it's like you know when to plant. It ain't just knowin'; it's part feelin'. Well, I got that feelin'."

"Boy, ain't we movin' a mite fast?"

"Watch the barbershops, they follow the money. There ain't a one on our street."

Buck's charity

"Mother's feedin' whole milk to the pigs 'cause she ain't got time to churn. Wonder if you could run up some milkin' time and kinda spell her at the churn"

Virgil page 135 typo "whipered"