...the long train ride was like traveling through limbo. You weren't anywhere when you were on a train, she decided. You weren't where you had been, and you weren't yet where you were going. You were nowhere. It might be beautiful outside the window-...
I want to yell so loud that Baby Girl can hear me that dirty ain't a color, disease ain't the Negro side a town. I want to stop that moment from coming - and it come in ever white child's life - when they start to think that colored folks ain't as go...
Moderate giftedness has been made worthless by the printing press and radio and television and satellites and all that. A moderately gifted person who would have been a community treasure a thousand years ago has to give up, has to go into some other...
For a writer, it seems a help rather than a hindrance to be at least a little crazy. Who but a crazy person would carve out a very private, quiet place in the world, only to pour his/her innermost thoughts and emotions onto a page for the entire worl...
The slam of a car door drew her attention to a new arrival. Maxville Deputy Sheriff Zach Manus emerged from his unmarked 2011 Camaro and stalked toward them. Deep sorrow and anger laced across his handsome features. His light-brown hair stood a littl...
They will say that I, having no literary skill, cannot properly express that which I desire to treat of, but they do not know that my subjects are to be dealt with by experience rather than by words. And [experience] has been the mistress of those wh...
Forbes did, in fact, break new ground for women...She was an irrepressible and independent traveler who took risky and difficult trips, braved the hostility of the colonial officials and bureaucrats of the British empire, and invaded the male sphere ...
The idea that you might end up in a job that doesn't allow you to be who you are, over the course of a lifetime, is still one of the most chilling nightmares to me. It's a good metaphor for fears I have about losing my soul in some accidental, mundan...
He was looking for immensity. His life was hopelessly small, everything surrounding him was nondescript and gray. And death is absolute; it is indivisible and indissoluble. The presence of the girl was pathetic (a few caresses and a lot of meaningles...
But to demand that a work be “relatable” expresses a different expectation: that the work itself be somehow accommodating to, or reflective of, the experience of the reader or viewer. The reader or viewer remains passive in the face of the book o...
It’s more than that.’ Reyna rested her hand on Nico’s. ‘While you were asleep, I did a lot of thinking. What I told you about my father … I’d never shared that with anyone. I guess I knew you were the right person to confide in. You lifte...
In the nineteenth century, The Romantics viewed Nature as benign, a glowing reflection of God's grace. Now we know better. Nature is brutal and, if it is feminine, she's not the kind of woman you can trust. Human beings may be her finest achievement ...
Moms are the ones Who make sure of a lot of things Like that their kids Wear nice clothes, Comb their hair, Brush their teeth. And moms teach their kids How to fold laundry So their cloths aren't wrinkled, How to make scrambled eggs Without turning t...
When Ginny realized I wouldn’t ask Max for a divorce, her request became an ultimatum. One day she screamed, “Make up your mind, Simon. It’s either me or your wife, you can’t have it both ways.” She didn’t sound vulnerable like a rejected...
There’s in a miss and in a Mrs. A difference that no one ought to miss For their bodies and hearts are scripts apart Their journeys and worries are each a lone I’ll speak for the Mrs. since me she bore Leave the mothers breasts alone For there is...
And she forgot the stars, the moon, and sun/ And she forgot the blue above the trees,/ And she forgot the dells where waters run,/ And she forgot the chilly autumn breeze;/ She had no knowledge when the day was done,/ And the new morn she saw not: bu...
Rapunzel took a ragged breath and called back, “What are you?” “Pardon?” “What are you,” she asked again, frustration mingling with her fear, “What sort of beast are you? Are you a wolf?” “Does a wolf walk on two legs? I am a man.�...
You kissed me.' I tear my eyes away from the mirror to face her. We are close, so close standing here. My lungs might be carved out of granite, cast from bronze, the way they refuse to expand, to fill with air. 'You kissed me back,' says Kat softly. ...
If you lack the humility to go back and tie up the loose ends in your past, then be prepared to forever be haunted by her ghosts, all of whom will come into your present and your future— staining everything and everyone with their leftover emotiona...
Green heard her voice, murmuring, and Adrian’s, murmuring back. Something inside of him made an actual glass-cracking noise—and before he could convince himself that that it was his imagination, Blissa and three of the other nymphs danced through...
Becoming a writer is about becoming conscious. When you're conscious and writing from a place of insight and simplicity and real caring about the truth, you have the ability to throw the lights on for your reader. He or she will recognize his or her ...
