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“I’m not sure at what point the red-tailed hawk made the transition from simply being a bird I enjoyed watching to something more, something personal. I began to notice when I was in times of duress — more often than not — they would fly over or in front of me. I had the distinct feeling my hawk friend was there to provide me comfort, to let me know that in spite of how bad the circumstances seemed at that given moment, events were happening just the way they should be.”
― Oklahoma Is Where I Live: and Other Things on My Mind
― Oklahoma Is Where I Live: and Other Things on My Mind
“Hawk’s on his way,” Anderson said. “Kelly wants him to have a look around before the rest of the gang gets here.”
Dockendorf sighed. “You talkin’ about the new guy, from Oklahoma of all places, Daniel Fishinghawk, the crime scene genius? What do you know about him?”
Anderson answered, “Rumor has it that his background is Cherokee Indian — though you could never tell by looking at him. I’ve heard he’s smart as hell — could be in Mensa if he wanted — a speed reader who digests over five books a week —”
“I’m sick of that guy,” Dockendorf interrupted. “He makes the rest of us look bad. So he’s gotten lucky on a few cases. So what?”
― Murder on Easter Island
Dockendorf sighed. “You talkin’ about the new guy, from Oklahoma of all places, Daniel Fishinghawk, the crime scene genius? What do you know about him?”
Anderson answered, “Rumor has it that his background is Cherokee Indian — though you could never tell by looking at him. I’ve heard he’s smart as hell — could be in Mensa if he wanted — a speed reader who digests over five books a week —”
“I’m sick of that guy,” Dockendorf interrupted. “He makes the rest of us look bad. So he’s gotten lucky on a few cases. So what?”
― Murder on Easter Island
“The next morning I awoke and saw the morning sun peeking through my open window. The sound of wind chimes murmured their random melody, and I was glad to be at home resting in my comfortable bed, my wife curled by my side.
Life is like poetry. It has a rhythm and a meter, which, when allowed to flow, will sing a song. Sometimes that song is happy, sometimes it is sad, oftentimes it is both.
Whatever its nature, we should all enjoy hearing our own melody. Someday, perhaps before we are ready, the song of this life will face into the ethers.
All too soon.”
― Oklahoma Is Where I Live: and Other Things on My Mind
Life is like poetry. It has a rhythm and a meter, which, when allowed to flow, will sing a song. Sometimes that song is happy, sometimes it is sad, oftentimes it is both.
Whatever its nature, we should all enjoy hearing our own melody. Someday, perhaps before we are ready, the song of this life will face into the ethers.
All too soon.”
― Oklahoma Is Where I Live: and Other Things on My Mind
“. . . Out of nowhere Matt became aware of an intense, blinding white light that filled the center of the room. It was without circumference or center, moving as a panoramic mirage. It was bright to the point of being uncomfortable. But the discomfort did not come from the brilliance itself. Rather, it arose because it made the darkness inside him all that much more apparent.
He found himself eager to escape it.”
― The Lhasa Trilogy
He found himself eager to escape it.”
― The Lhasa Trilogy
