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

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

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.

I intend to stay on her like hair on soap.

I want to yell so loud that Baby Girl can hear me that dirty ain't a color, disease ain't the Negro side a town. I want to stop that moment from coming - and it come in ever white child's life - when they start to think that colored folks ain't as good as whites. ... I pray that wasn't her moment, Pray I still got time.

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

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.