Dreams of Arcadia Book Blog Tour and #Giveaway #LoneStarLit

Notable Quotables from

Dreams of Arcadia by Brian Porter

He came back to the farm again and again, seeking something lost, needing to be reminded of the bonds of family, the mingling of sweat and soil, the ancient rhythms of crop and season. But in the end, he must have realized he was chasing an illusion, that the farm was only a shadow of what it once had been, and that the farming life, like his youth, was gone forever.

* * *

There was no trace of a human presence on that creek bank, and the perplexities of the world seemed distant. Here was life at its most basic, seething and raw, played out on a grand stage. As Nate became immersed in his surroundings, a memory came bubbling to the surface, a memory from the simpler days of his childhood, when life was full of wonder and promise, when he was not yet burdened by his responsibilities or imprisoned by his fears.

* * *

The distant hills glowed vividly, every feature of the land sharp and unmistakable, every tree, barn roof, and fence post scrubbed clean. The cold purifying rain had seemingly washed away the world’s ills—all of the hatred, greed, and ignorance—leaving a shining, more hopeful place. Nate lingered there, wanting it to be true, if only for that brief precious moment, a vision to return to in the hazy days to come.

* * *

He felt so thoroughly alive at that moment, as if just roused from a very long sleep. All of his senses were heightened. The caress of the wind on his skin, the twittering of a pair of scissortail flycatchers pirouetting in the sky above, the fresh grassy smell of spring—all of it was suddenly discernible, and the intensity of it was overwhelming.

* * *

As he gazed westward toward the creek, his thoughts took him on a serpentine course through the bottom’s tangled depths, then along the muddy banks, shady and drift-choked. He longed to be in that lonely place, hidden away from it all, watching the shifting shadows, the swaying branches, the dappled sunlight on dark water. Life was pure there, uncluttered and unrepentant, the past inconsequential.