Butte Quotes

“These bricks came from kilns that were in China. Then the cargo ships that brought the refugees over, ships meant to be filled with lumber or coal, those ships couldn't draft right with their soft, human loads. Even packed with people, the ships were not heavy enough, so the owners stacked bricks down there with them." He kicked at the exposed cobblestones and said, "Imagine the misery. Then they sold the bricks to the Anaconda, and you can still find these cobblestones on the back railway streets from Seattle to here. Everywhere the Chinese worked building the railways, t”
― Steve S. Saroff, Paper Targets: Art Can Be Murder

“Everywhere the Chinese worked building the railways, tamping black powder into spark holes, or digging for copper. Everywhere they died.”
― Steve S. Saroff, Paper Targets: Art Can Be Murder

“Il faut savoir sourire dans la chute
aussi bien qu´élever dans la butte.”
― Ana Claudia Antunes, L'Amante de Victor Hugo

“These bricks came from kilns that were in China. Then the cargo ships that brought the refugees over, ships meant to be filled with lumber or coal, those ships couldn't draft right with their soft, human loads. Even packed with people, the ships were not heavy enough, so the owners stacked bricks down there with them." He kicked at the exposed cobblestones and said, "Imagine the misery. Then they sold the bricks to the Anaconda, and you can still find these cobblestones on the back railway streets from Seattle to here. Everywhere the Chinese worked building the railways, tamping black powder into spark holes, or digging for copper. Everywhere they died.”
― Saroff Saroff

“I mentioned how I had lived in the oil boom. I described the buttes of the badlands. The smell of the sage. The yolk-yellow breasts of the sage grass. How if you sat long enough, waited for the golden hour, then the entire sweep of the badlands surged into a riot of reds and purples and golds. I told him how there were ponderosa pines tucked into the southwestern pocket of North Dakota, but that they looked shrimpy compared to the ones here, in the rain-forest of the Olympics.”
― Taylor Brorby, Boys and Oil: Growing Up Gay in a Fractured Land