Shoot, boy, the country's just fulla folks what knows everything, and don't understand nothing, just fullofem. - Truman Capote

You can't blame a writer for what the characters say.

She was a triumph over ugliness, so often more beguiling than real beauty, if only because it contains paradox.

Did you ever, in that wonderland wilderness of adolesence [sic] ever, quite unexpectedly, see something, a dusk sky, a wild bird, a landscape, so exquisite terror touched you at the bone? And you are afraid, terribly afraid the smallest movement, a leaf, say, turning in the wind, will shatter all? That is, I think, the way love is, or should be: one lives in beautiful terror.