There is really nothing more to say - except why. But since why is difficult to handle, one must take refuge in how.

What I'm doing ain't about hating White people. It's about loving us.

...black women write differently from white women. This is the most marked difference of all those combinations of black and white, male and female. It's not so much that women write differently from men, but that black women write differently from white women. Black men don't write very differently from white men.

Would it be all right? Would it be all right to go ahead and feel? Go ahead and count on something?

I sometimes lose interest in the characters and get much more interested in the trees and animals.

A son ain't what a woman say. A son is what a man do.

How soon country people forget. When they fall in love with a city it is forever, and it is like forever. As though there never was a time when they didn't love it. The minute they arrive at the train station or get off the ferry and glimpse the wide streets and the wasteful lamps lighting them, they know they are born for it. There, in a city, they are not so much new as themselves: their stronger, riskier selves.