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Book: The Last Cheater's Waltz: Beauty and Violence in the Desert Southwest
Quotes of Book: The Last Cheater's Waltz:
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  1. Ellen Meloy _ The Last Cheater's Waltz:

    I was a lowly puddle of plasma, trading "I am alive" for a vague "I tend to exist" and weeping for joy over the sheer revelation.
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  2. Ellen Meloy _ The Last Cheater's Waltz:

    How do I stop this misery?" I groaned, scanning the shelves for a cure."Don't go out there," he said flatly.I contemplated this reasonable observation for about sixteen seconds. Move to town. Hang out at the laundromat. Have eight children. Then I melted back into the pinon-juniper forest.
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  3. Ellen Meloy _ The Last Cheater's Waltz:

    A cavalry of sweaty but righteous blond gods chased pesky, unkempt people across an annoyingly leaky Mexican border. A grimy cowboy with a headdress of scrawny vultures lay facedown in fiery sands at the end of a trail of his own groveling claw marks, body flattened like a roadkill, his back a pincushion of Apache arrows. He rose and shook his head as if he had merely walked into a doorknob. Never mind John Wayne and his vultures and an "Oregon Trail" lined with the Mesozoic buttes of the Southwest, where the movies were filmed, or the Indians who were supposed to be northern plains Cheyenne but actually were Navajo extras in costume department Sioux war bonnets saying mischievous, naughty things in Navajo, a language neither filmmaker nor audience understood anyway, but which the interpreter onscreen translated as soberly as his forked tongue could manage, "Well give you three cents an acre." Never mind the ecologically incorrect arctic loon cries on the soundtrack. I loved that desert.
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  4. Ellen Meloy _ The Last Cheater's Waltz:

    This deranged jungle of ironies coinhabits my skull like feathers and fireworks. My heart fills with stones. I am the mad aunt who laughs her head off at the funeral. There rises in me the most inappropriate hysteria in this most somber of places.
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  5. Ellen Meloy _ The Last Cheater's Waltz:

    My geography savors a delicious paradox: Home - a grounding - found in unearthly beauty. The predominant colors are blue, emerald, and terra-cotta. Every day, every season, I taste these colors and the intricate flavors of their unaccountable tones and hues. I have yet to earn this land. Perhaps I never will. Home is a religion. Sensibly you understand the need for it, yet not even sensible people can explain it. - from the Chapter "Finding Home
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  6. Ellen Meloy _ The Last Cheater's Waltz:

    A map, it is said, organizes wonder."
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