No matter what all your teeth and wet fingers anticipated, there was no accounting for the way that simple joy could shake you.

Sexist language, racist language, theistic language - all are typical of the policing languages of mastery, and cannot, do not, permit new knowledge or encourage the mutual exchange of ideas.

He leans over and takes her hand. With the other he touches her face. ‘You your best thing, Sethe. You are.’ His holding fingers are holding hers. ‘Me? Me?

Make a difference about something other than yourselves.

To get to a place where you could love anything you chose--not to need permission for desire--well now _that_ was freedom.

There is a loneliness that can be rocked. Arms crossed, knees drawn up, holding, holding on, this motion, unlike a ship's, smooths and contains the rocker. It's an inside kind--wrapped tight like skin. Then there is the loneliness that roams. No rocking can hold it down. It is alive. On its own. A dry and spreading thing that makes the sound of one's own feet going seem to come from a far-off place.

Like friendship, hatred needed more than physical intimacy; it wanted creativity and hard work to sustain itself