Libby Lamb

“And just at that second, the wind picked up, and thousands upon thousands of yellow sycamore leaves broke from their life support and streamed across the sky. Autumn leaves don’t fall; they fly. They take their time and wander on this, their only chance to soar. Reflecting sunlight, they swirled and sailed and fluttered on the wind drafts.”
― Delia Owens, Where the Crawdads Sing

“The rest of the small half-moon beach was covered in a thick layer of broken shells, a jumble of crustacean parts, and crab claws. Shells the best secret-keepers of all.”
― Delia Owens, Where the Crawdads Sing

“They sipped until the sun, as golden as syrupy as the bourbon, slipped into the sea.”
― Delia Owens, Where the Crawdads Sing

“She held it against her heart. Where else would one need a compass more than in this place?”
― Delia Owens, Where the Crawdads Sing