Janie saw her life like a great tree in leaf with the things suffered, things enjoyed, things done and undone. Dawn and doom was in the branches

I want a busy life, a just mind, and a timely death.

To me, bitterness is the under-arm odor of wishful weakness. It is the graceless acknowledgment of defeat.

It is so easy to be hopeful in the daytime when you can see the things you wish on. But it was night, it stayed night. Night was striding across nothingness with the whole round world in his hands . . . They sat in company with the others in other shanties, their eyes straining against cruel walls and their souls asking if He meant to measure their puny might against His. They seemed to be staring at the dark, but their eyes were watching God.

She stood there until something fell off the shelf inside her.

It is a curious thing to be a woman in the Caribbean after you have been a woman in these United States.

To a haughty belly, kindness is hard to swallow and harder to digest.