“We die. That may be the meaning of life. But we do language. That may be the measure of our lives.”

Literature, it seems to me, is wisdom.

The ability of writers to imagine what is not the self, to familiarize the strange and mystify the familiar, is the test of their power.

A dream is just a nightmare with lipstick.

Today is always here,’ said Sethe. ‘Tomorrow, never.

You have to be a little tough, and rely on yourself. And tell people ‘No’.

To get to a place where you could love anything you chose – not to need permission for desire – well now that was freedom.

We mistook violence for passion, indolence for leisure, and thought recklessness was freedom.

You wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down.

A friend gathers all the pieces and gives them back in the right order.

If you surrendered to the air, you could ride it.

Black boys became criminalized. I was in constant dread for their lives, because they were targets everywhere. They still are.

Beauty was not simply something to behold; it was something one could do.

All important things are hard.

Black people’s music is in a class by itself and always has been.

I think some aspects of writing can be taught. Obviously, you can’t teach vision or talent. But you can help with comfort.

From my point of view, your life is already a miracle of chance waiting for you to shape its destiny.

To die hating them, that was freedom.

The weak die out and the strong will survive, and will live on forever.

Fear not death for the sooner we die, the longer we shall be immortal.

Most grievous of all deaths it is to die of hunger.

We have art in order not to die of the truth.

It is nothing to die. It is frightful not to live.

The family exists for many reasons, but its most basic function may be to draw together after a member dies.

I could die for you. But I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, live for you.