The sun had become a light yellow yolk and was walking with red legs across the sky.

From barren brown stems to glistening leaf-buds; from the leaf-buds to snowy virginity of bloom…It was like a flute song forgotten in another existence and remembered again. What? How? Why? This singing she heard that had nothing to do with her ears. The rose of the world was breathing out smell. It followed her through all her waking moments and caressed her in her sleep.

She had waited all her life for something, and it had killed her when it found her.

The Haitian people are gentle and lovable except for their enormous and unconscious cruelty.

But any man who walks in the way of power and property is bound to meet hate.

If science ever gets to the bottom of Voodoo in Haiti and Africa, it will be found that some important medical secrets, still unknown to medical science, give it its power, rather than the gestures of ceremony.

truth is a letter from courage!