Minnie Pearl Quotes

What the hell am I doing in Nashville? What – you want me to shoot Minnie Pearl? (Steele)

Imagine your Aunt Minnie bringing you a plate of cookies as you sat in front of the TV, a string of human molars strung casually, like pearls, around her neck.

Three couples approached the Pearly Gates and asked permission from Saint Peter to enter. To the first husband he responded, “You may not enter heaven. All your life you’ve been obsessed with money. Why, you even married a woman named Penny!” He then turned to the second husband and responded, “You may not enter heaven. All your life you’ve been obsessed with food. Why, you even married a woman named Candy.” Taking his wife gently by the hand and looking very sad, the third husband said, “Come on, Fanny, we might as well get out of here!

A couple was celebratin’ their fiftieth wedding anniversary with a reception. They were standin’ in line greetin’ their friends and about halfway through, she hauled off and hit him! He looked surprised and said, “What was that for?” She said, “For fifty years of bad sex!” He thought about that a minute and then hauled off and hit her. Now it was her turn to look surprised and she said, “What on earth was that for?” And he answered, “For knowing the difference!

God has a plan for all of us, but He expects us to do our share of the work. Minnie Pearl

sounded calm when she answered the phone. Which meant that Jody had probably left. They had begun the day with the two women arguing about whose phone the government had legal and moral authority to tap. Pearl and her daughter could discuss such subjects until they were all talked out and Quinn had long since fled to wherever it might be legal and moral to smoke a cigar. “Still reeling from the Minnie Miner show?” Pearl asked him. “Not per se,” Quinn said. “That sounds like something Winston Castle would say. He must have gotten to you with his member-of-parliament persona.” “I suppose that’s why I’m calling,” Quinn said. “There’s something familiar about Winston Castle’s act. It reminds me of a magician’s patter, designed to get you looking at one hand while he’s doing something with the other. Just when everybody’s attention is distracted, Presto! Out of the hat pops the rabbit.” “Or the right card,” “Never play poker with them,” Quinn said. “Rabbits?” “People. Like the ones in Winston Castle’s whack-job family, or whatever it is. They have their patter.” “Meaning?” “Maybe somebody has a real Michelangelo up a sleeve.” “Magicians,” Pearl said, not quite understanding. “I’ve always kind of liked them.” “Their act wouldn’t work if you didn’t.” “I still like them.” “They cut people in half, you know.” “Only beautiful girls. And it doesn’t seem to hurt.” “I wouldn’t want to see you proved wrong.” “Where are you going with this,” Pearl asked with a sigh. Jody had apparently worn her down. “We are going to stake out the Far Castle’s Garden.” “I thought we were concentrating on D.O.A.” “Maybe we are,” Quinn said. “My guess is he’s not one of the many people who think Bellazza isn’t in the garden, just because an imitation has already been found there.” “Are we among the many, Quinn?” “On one hand, yes.” “But on the other?” “Presto!” 78 The searcher came by night, as Quinn had suspected he would, and hours after the restaurant had closed. Quinn was slouching low behind the steering wheel in the black Lincoln. He’d parked where he had a catty-corner view across the intersection and the Far Castle’s outdoor dining area. Beyond the stacked and locked tables and chairs loomed the shadowed topiary forms of the garden. Beginning several feet behind the flower beds was the larger garden, wilder and less arranged than the beds, with a variety of

The paradox of Hank Williams was that he was easygoing on the outside, yet tense and querulous inside. He pretended that he’d just ridden into town on a mule, yet had a lively intelligence combined with what Minnie Pearl described as a “woods-animal distrust” of anyone who appeared to have any more learning than he did.

Minnie Pearl once said, “Laughter is God’s hand on the shoulder of a weary world.

There she goes, an elderly, well-dressed woman in a tailor-made suit and a, what was it, “worn” fur coat—a lady dressed, armoured for the day, vanishing now down the long ugly avenue, the black branches scratching her out of sight. There she goes, all day to impress others with her small linen handkerchiefs, the pearls in her ears, her hesitant manner, her tremulous smile,--while to him was left the imprint of her head, it was already cold where she had lain, and knowing what they would never know, that she wore a blue slip beneath the suit…