62 quotes found
“Once upon a long ago time I was a girl with hopeful halos in my eyesnot unlike younot a typical beauty but beautiful nonetheless, as all young girls tend to be in their prime, even if they dont ten...”
“Sometimes, I feel my breath coming in shorter, quicker, spastic bursts, feel my heart threaten to thunder through my ribs, feel sweat beading on my brow...and I know its time to bust out those choc...”
“Of course, I rationalize the fear. I realize its not real, that my house isnt burning down, that the deer arent going to kill me.”
“I am forever an advocate of books, both the reading of them and the writing. There is something sacred to me in that community. Because writing--and reading--is a solitary business. And its good to...”
“Just write. That's my only tip. And read. I guess that's two.”
“Wine and a straitjacket. That pretty much sums it up.”
“Water. Like a blanket. Dark. Intoxicating. Cold.”
“She didn't tell him white folks couldn't love the same as coloreds. She couldn't love the same neither though, cuz more than half of her was white.”
“Jeb'd said it was harder for a pretty girl to find work; even white men liked flowers, whether red or pink or blue.”
“All I cared about that summer were suntans, beaches, boys and booze.”
“Dont worry if you fall, sweet girl. Youth is made for bruises.”
“I could say it all began with my mother.”
“She fantasized sometimes too about killing him a little: a little poison in his pudding, a little flick-flick-flick with a fillet knife at his throat.”
“Her mother always told her, If he hits you, then you leave, but Jack had never hit her, not with his fists.”
“Im sorry if...I get too personal, if I make you uncomfortable, but writing is like one of the seven deadly sins, like Sharing on Mr. Rogers, and once you get the bug youre trapped in The Neighborho...”
“Mama wasn't dead...exactly. They all said she was, but when Elma was small, she seen Mama creep into her room at night, half-naked, head all bloodied red like when they found her by the well that d...”
“Heres a random factoid: I like cats. And heres another: I like red wine.”
“Amber Rorman had told me too that our third grade teacher, Ms. Lizetti, was really a lesbian, which I thought was a disease until I asked Amber and Amber told me to ask her mother who told me to as...”
“Lets call my mood melancholy; lets call it remembrance. Or maybe lets call it longing. Yes, lets call it longing instead.”
“Youre worried about what-ifs. Well, what if you stopped worrying?”
