Book: Servants

She can take the most complex problem and pack it so simply and neatly that it easily fits in your pocket.

I understand there are many other "black" events besides my stories and Shirley Boone meetings - demonstrations in the city, march in Birmingham, civil rights rallies. But the point is, I'm not too worried about voting rights. And I don't give a damn about the right to dine at the same counter with whites. But it is important for me that in ten years the white lady does not call my girls dirty and does not accuse them of stealing silver.

Whenever you're not busy mimeographing or making coffee for your boss, look around carefully, observe, research, and write. Don't waste time with obvious things. Write about what worries you, especially if no one else cares about it.

In the dim light, her voice flashed an incredible glow. If chocolate could sound, it would sing in Constantine's voice. If the song had color, it would have the color of chocolate.

I don't know what to say to her in return. I understand everything, but I am silent. And I understand that she, too, cannot say what she wants. And this is so strange, because no one says anything, but we still manage to carry on the conversation.

- Are you saying that people think I use black magic?
- I knew you'd start to worry if I told you. It's just that people think you have a closer connection with Him than others. We are all in a straight line with the Lord, but you - you speak to him right in his ear.

The servants always know everything.

Anyone remember their first teacher, right? We may not remember what we were taught, but believe me, I raised children and know for a fact that the first teacher is important.

I have five children, and I am proud that I taught them to say "Yes mA'am" and "please", before uttering the word "cookie".

Remember how the Baby got spanked because of me. I remember that she listened to miss Lebolt called me a dirty, contagious. The bus is speeding on state street. We cross the bridge, Woodrow Wilson, and I clench my jaw with such force that just the teeth are not broken. Feel the bitter seed that had settled in me after the death Triloba, growing and growing. I want to scream so loudly that the Girl heard me, that dirt - it's not about the color of the skin, and infection - not in the Negro part of town.

I don't want to feel anything. Want to freeze from the inside. Want an ice flow headed straight into the heart.

Oh, how wonderful shared secrets.

I always found it funny how that kids believe everything they say.

Banned books I always bought from a bookseller in California, reasoning that if the state of Mississippi banned them - books are surely standing.