There is no stillness like the quiet of the first cold nights in the fall.

To know who you are, you have to have a place to come from.

While Time, The endless idiot, runs screaming round the world.

Once you have lived with another, it is a great torture to have to live alone.

Her face felt like it was scattered in pieces and she could not keep it straight. The feeling was a whole lot worse than being hungry for any dinner, yet it was like that. I want--I want--I want--was all that she could think about--but just what this real want was she did no know.

The closest thing to being cared for is to care for someone else.

Now hoppin'-john was F. Jasmine's very favorite food. She had always warned them to wave a plate of rice and peas before her nose when she was in her coffin, to make certain there was no mistake; for if a breath of life was left in her, she would sit up and eat, but if she smelled the hopping-john, and did not stir, then they could just nail down the coffin and be certain she was truly dead.