Holes Warden Quotes

A dog's good for filling a grief-dug hole." "In the Shape of Shep

Back at the compound, they had dug in a systematic order, row upon row, allowing space for the water truck. But out here there was no system. It was as if every once in a while, in a fit of frustration, the Warden would just pick a spot at random, and say, “What the hell, dig here.” It was like trying to guess the winning numbers in a lottery.

The Warden owns the shade."-Chapter 1.5

He'd seen this babe before--her many counterparts, that is. He knew her kin, distant and near. All her mamas, sisters, aunts, cousins and what have you. And he knew the name was Lowdown with a capital L. He wasn't at all surprised to find her in a setup like this. Not after encountering her as a warden's sister-in-law, the assistant treasurer of a country bank, and a supervisor of paroles. This babe got around. She was the original square-plug-in-a-round-hole kid. But she never changed any. She had that good old Lowdown blood in her, and the right guy could bring it out.

left his great-grandfather to face the hot barren desert. The Warden had left Stanley to face Mr. Sir. Somehow his great-grandfather

Tremont’s voice came out of the hole, sounding hollow and dead. “Something smells awful in here, Warden.” “Never mind that! Keep going.” Tremont’s lower legs disappeared into the hole. A moment later his feet were gone, too. His light flashed dimly back and forth. “Warden, it smells pretty damn bad.” “Never mind, I said!” Norton cried. Dolorously, Tremont’s voice floated back: “Smells like shit. Oh God, that’s what it is, it’s shit, oh my God lemme outta here I’m gonna blow my groceries oh shit it’s shit oh my Gawwwwwd—” And then came the unmistakable sound of Rory Tremont losing his last couple of meals. Well, that was it for me. I couldn’t help myself. The whole day—hell no, the last thirty years—all came up on me at once and I started laughing fit to split, a laugh such as I’d never had since I was a free man, the kind of laugh I never expected to have inside these gray walls. And oh dear God didn’t it feel good!

listening to Joe and after the game warden had dispatched the suffering animal. “I could see them sending someone out here to shut up The Earl once and for all. They came, shot him, and hung him from the windmill, and they were on a plane back to O’Hare by the time you found him.” “It may be what happened,” Joe said, “but it’s speculation at best. Marcus Hand sent two of his investigators east, and they may come back with something before the trial is over. But they may not. What I have trouble with in that scenario is how this Chicago hit man would know to frame Missy.” Nate said, “They had an insider.” “And who would that be?” “The same guy who told Laurie Talich where she could find me.” “Bud?” “Bingo,” Nate said. “It took a while for me to figure it out and there are still some loose ends I’d like closed, but it makes sense. Missy knew vaguely where I was living because she talks to her daughter, and last year she tried to hire me to put the fear of God into Bud, remember? She might have let it slip to her ex-husband that if he didn’t stop pining over her, she’d drive to Hole in the Wall Canyon and pick me up. Somehow, Bud found out where I was. And by happenstance, he meets a woman in the bar who has come west for the single purpose of avenging her husband. Bud has contacts with the National Guard who just returned from Afghanistan, and he was able to help her get a rocket launcher. Then he drew her a map. He must have been pretty smug about how it all worked out. He thought he was able to take me out of the picture without getting his own hands dirty.” “Bud—what’s happened to him?” Joe asked, not sure he was convinced of Nate’s theory. “Why has he gone so crazy on us?” “A man can only take so

He ducked his head out through the hole — then sprang back, as a pair of energy bolts sizzled into the door.

What are we supposed to be looking for?" Stanley asked him. "You're not looking for anything. You're digging to build character. It's just if you find anything, the Warden would like to know about it.

Over each of the nine holes was a strong, spine-armed sentinel for ever on guard and absolutely unbuyable, so that if at any time the Coyote – the Satan of the little prairie-folk – should appear among the moonlight dancers, each could dash homeward and enter by a handy door, sure that there would be standing by that door a fearless, well-armed warden, who would say to the Coyote, in a language he would well understand, “Stop! Keep off, or I’ll spear you!

The warden tossed Maddie and Piper into an underground thieves’ hole. The year was 1743. The location—the Scottish Highlands. Their crime? Being too sassy.

The left side of Mr. Sir’s face had swollen to the size of half a cantaloupe. There were three dark-purple jagged lines running down his cheek where the Warden had scratched him.

ever seen The Warden make toward him, or toward anybody else. It warmed all through him like a drink. It was worth three months in any Black Hole