She is a friend of my mind. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order. – Paul D0
She moved him. Not the way he had beat off the baby's soul—she had done that—but moved him nonetheless.0
Sweet, crazy conversations full of half sentences, daydreams and misunderstandings more thrilling than understanding.0
She forgot the hand-holding shadows of the sycamores, the smell of pine, the cartwheels of lightning, the rope of blood that shot up and rained down on her.0
Risky, thought Paul D, very risky. For a used-to-be-slave woman to love anything that much was dangerous, especially if it was her children she had settled on to love.0
Where I was before I came here, that place is real. It's never going away. Even if the whole farm—every tree and grass blade of it dies. The picture is still there and what's more, if you go there—you who never was there—if you go there and stand in the place where it was, it will happen again; it will be there for you, waiting for you.0
And O my people, out yonder, hear me, they do not love your neck unnoosed and straight. So love your neck; put a hand on it, grace it, stroke it and hold it up.0
Bit by bit, at 124 and in the Clearing, along with the others, she had claimed herself. Now she claimed every part of it.0
She is the one; she is the one I need. You are my sister. You are my daughter. You are my face; you are me.0
The picture of the men coming to nurse her was as lifeless as the nerves in her back where the skin buckled like a washboard.0
She never mentioned the party, or the woman who knocked her down, or how she had choked. Nothing. As though it had never happened.0