Joan Cook

“She walks barefoot into the humid night, moonlight on her freckled shoulders. Near a huge, live oak tree on the edge of her father's cotton fields, Sidda looks up into the sky. In the crook of the crescent moon sits the Holy Lady, with strong muscles and a merciful heart. She kicks her splendid legs like the moon is her swing and the sky, her front porch. She waves down at Sidda like she has just spotted an old buddy.
Sidda stands in the moonlight and lets the Blessed Mother love every hair on her six-year-old head. Tenderness flows down from the moon and up from the earth. For one fleeting, luminous moment, Sidda Walker knows there has never been a time when she has not been loved.”
― Rebecca Wells, Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood

“Sidda can't help herself. She just loves books. Loves the way they feel, the way they smell, loves the black letters marching across the white pages...”
― Rebecca Wells, Little Altars Everywhere

“Friends are supposed to act like harbor boats—let you know if you’re off course. But it ain’t always possible…”
― Rebecca Wells, Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood

“Sometimes you just have to reach out and grab what you want, even when they tell you not to. This is something that I've struggled with my whole life long.”
― Rebecca Wells, Little Altars Everywhere