You'se something tuh make uh man forgit to git old and forgit tuh die.

Don't you love nobody better'n you do yo'self. Do, you'll be dying befo' yo' time is out.

Love, I find, is like singing.

Mystery is the essence of divinity

When Janie looked out of her door she saw the drifting mists gathered in the west -- that cloud field of the sky -- to arm themselves with thunders and march forth against the world. Louder and higher and lower and wider the sound and motion spread, mounting, sinking, darking.

That is the way with people ... If they do you wrong, they invent a bad name for you, a good name for their acts and then destroy you in the name of virtue.

I am not tragically colored. There is no great sorrow dammed up in my soul, nor lurking behind my eyes. I do not mind at all.