Finally, we entered Chetaube County, my imaginary birthplace, where the names of the little winding roads and minuscule mountain communities never failed to inspire me: Yardscrabble, Big Log, Upper, Middle and Lower Pigsty, Chicken Scratch, Cooterville, Felchville, Dust Rag, Dough Bag, Uranus Ridge, Big Bottom, Hooter Holler, Quickskillet, Buck Wallow, Possum Strut … We always say a picture speaks a thousand words, but isn’t the opposite equally true?
Source: Beginner's Luke: Book I of the Beginner's Luke Series, Pages: 95
"I'm not a man who constantly thinks up jokes. But I think it's very important to be able to see the funny side of life and its joyful dimension and not to take everything too tragically. I'd also say it's necessary for my ministry. A writer once said that angels can fly because they don't take themselves too seriously. Maybe we could also fly a bit if we didn't think we were so important."
Then I was eighteen again, literally, hitchhiking in a bewildering zigzag from Toad Suck Park, Arkansas, to Big Bone Lick State Park, Kentucky, to Hungry Mother State Park, Virginia, to Intercourse, Pennsylvania, through the Shenandoah Valley to Sweet Lips, Tennessee, and then on through the Bible Belt bound, as best I could tell, for Climax, North Carolina.
Source: Beginner's Luke: Book I of the Beginner's Luke Series, Pages: 89