Kathryn Stockett Quotes

Bosoms are for bedrooms and breastfeeding.

That's all a grit is, a vehicle. For whatever it is you rather be eating.

This woman talk like she from so deep in the country she got corn growing in her shoes.

I wash my hands, wonder how an awful day could turn even worse. It seems like at some point you'd just run out of awful.

I've become one of those people who prowl around at night in their cars. God, I am the town's Boo Radley, just like in To Kill A Mockingbird.

I'm tired of the rules," I say.

They say it's like true love, good help. You only get one in a lifetime.

I have never been more proud of the United States than I am this year. We have elected an African-American president. We have the stellar Michelle Obama setting the standard for American women. I simply cannot say it enough: look how far we've come.

I haven’t had the chance to look at too many men’s faces up close. And I noticed how his skin was thicker than mine, and a gorgeous shade of toast. The stiff blond hairs on his cheeks and chin seemed to be growing before my eyes. He smelled like starch. Like pine. His nose wasn’t so pointy afterall. …And out of the blue, he kissed me. Right in the middle of the Robert E. Lee Hotel Restaurant, he kissed me so slowly with an open mouth and every single thing in my body-my skin, my collarbone, the hollow backs of my knees, everything inside of me filled up with light.

I reckon that’s the risk you run, letting somebody else raise you chilluns.

Who knew paper and ink could be so vicious

...out of the blue, he kissed me. Right in the middle of the Robert E. Lee Hotel Restaurant, he kissed me so slowly with an open mouth and every single thing in my body-my skin, my collarbone, the hollow backs of my knees, everything inside of me filled up with light.

Lord, I never seen blue hair on a black woman before or since. Leroy say you look like a cracker from outer space.

And why? Because they are suffocating within the lines that define their town and their times. And sometimes lines are made to be crossed.

I listened wide-eyed, stupid. Glowing by her voice in the dim light. If chocolate was a sound, it would've been Constantine's voice singing. If singing was a color, it would've been the color of that chocolate.

If singing was a color, it would've been the color of that chocolate.

I may not remember my name or what country I live in, but you and that pie is something I will never forget.

Mississippi is like my mother. I am allowed to complain about her all I want, but God help the person who raises an ill word about her around me, unless she is their mother too.

And you call yourself a Christian,' were Hilly's words to me and I thought, God. When did I ever do that?

She dumb.” I sigh. “But she ain’t stupid.

I come home that morning, after I been fired, and stood outside my house with my new work shoes on. The shoes my mama paid a month's worth a light bill for. I guess that's when I understood what shame was and the color of it too. Shame ain't black, like dirt, like I always thought it was. Shame be the color of a new white uniform your mother ironed all night to pay for, white without a smudge or a speck a work-dirt on it.

It's already 95 degrees outside. Mississippi got the most unorganized weather in the nation.

Down in the national news section, there's an article on a new pill, the 'Valium' they're calling it, 'to help women cope with everyday challenges.' God, I could use about ten of those little pills right now.

...My sister Doreena who never lifted a royal finger growing up because she had the heart defect that we later found out was a fly on the X-ray machine.

That's the way prayer do. It's like electricity, it keeps things going.

You is kind. You is smart. You is important.

No one tells us, girls who don't go on dates, that remembering can be almost as good as what actually happens.

I'm sorry, but were you dropped on your head as an infant?

....we ain't doing civil rights here. We just telling stories like they really happen.

Truth. It feels cool, like water washing over my sticky-hot body. Cooling a heat that's been burning me up all my life. Truth, I say inside my head again, just for that feeling.

Got to be the worst place in the world, inside a oven. You in here, you either cleaning or you getting cooked.

You're gon' have to say to your self, am I gon' believe what them fools say about me today?

The point is, I can’t tell you how to succeed. But I can tell you how not to: Give in to the shame of being rejected and put your manuscript—or painting, song, voice, dance moves, [insert passion here]—in the coffin that is your bedside drawer and close it for good. I guarantee you that it won’t take you anywhere. Or you could do what this writer did: Give in to your obsession instead.

I'd cry, if only I had the time to do it.

Babies like fat. Like to bury they face up in you armpit and go to sleep. They like big fat legs too. That I know.

Because ain’t that white people for you, wondering if they are happy enough.

It seems like at some point you'd run out of awful.

They say it's like true love, good help. you only get one in a lifetime.....there is so much you don't know about a person. i wonder if i could've made her days a little bit easier, if I'd tried. if i'd treated her a little nicer.

Baby Girl," I say. "I need you remember everything I told you. Do you remember what I told you?" She still crying steady, but the hiccups are gone. "To wipe my bottom good when I'm done?" "No, baby, the other one. About who you are.

I always order the banned books from a black market dealer in California, figuring if the State of Mississippi banned them, they must be good.

Im a Southerner - I never take satisfaction in touching a nerve.

Here's to new beginnings," Stuart says and raises his bourbon. I nod, sort of wanting to tell him that all beginnings are new.

Ever morning, until you dead in the ground, you gone have to make this decision. You gone have to ask yourself, "Am I gone believe what them fools say about me today?

What you learn today?" I ask even though she ain't in real school, just the pretend kind. Other day, when I ask her, she say, "Pilgrims. They came over and nothing would grow so they ate the Indians." Now knew them Pilgrims didn't eat no Indians. But that ain't the point.

I started writing it the day after Sept. 11. I was living in New York City. We didnt have any phone service and we didnt have any mail. Like a lot of writers do, I started to write in a voice that I missed.

I give in and light another cigarette even though last night the surgeon general came on the television set and shook his finger at everybody, trying to convince us that smoking will kill us. But Mother once told me tongue kissing would turn me blind and I'm starting to think it's all just a big plot between the surgeon general and Mother to make sure no one ever has any fun.

Wasn't that the point of the book? For women to realize, We are just two people. Not that much separates us. Not nearly as much as I'd thought.

Miss Leefolt sigh, hang up the phone like she just don't know how her brain gone operate without Miss Hilly coming over to push the Think buttons.