It was not death she feared. It was misunderstanding.
ZORA NEALE HURSTONIt was not death she feared. It was misunderstanding.
ZORA NEALE HURSTONMy head was full of misty fumes of doubt.
ZORA NEALE HURSTONNo, I do not weep at the world. I’m too busy sharpening my oyster knife.
ZORA NEALE HURSTONAnd I can’t die easy thinking maybe the menfolks white or black is making a spit cup out of you. Have some sympathy for me. Put me down easy, Janie, I’m a cracked plate.
ZORA NEALE HURSTONTwo things everybody’s got tuh do fuh theyselves. They got tuh go tuh God, and they got tuh find out about livin’ fuh theyselves.
ZORA NEALE HURSTONMama exhorted her children at every opportunity to ‘jump at the sun.’ We might not land on the sun, but at least we would get off the ground.
ZORA NEALE HURSTONI made up my mind to keep my feelings to myself since they did not seem to matter to anyone else but me.
ZORA NEALE HURSTONShe was too busy feeling grief to dress like grief.
ZORA NEALE HURSTONIf you want that good feeling that comes from doing things for other folks then you have to pay for it in abuse and misunderstanding.
ZORA NEALE HURSTONThey seemed to be staring at the dark, but their eyes were watching God.
ZORA NEALE HURSTONIt seems to me that trying to live without friends is like milking a bear to get cream for your morning coffee. It is a whole lot of trouble, and then not worth much after you get it.
ZORA NEALE HURSTONTea Cake, the son of the Evening Sun, had to die for loving her.
ZORA NEALE HURSTONHoney, de white man is de ruler of everything as fur as Ah been able tuh find out. Maybe it’s some place way off in de ocean where de black man is in power, but we don’t know nothin’ but what we see.
ZORA NEALE HURSTONJanie looked down on him and felt a self-crushing love. So her soul crawled out from its hiding place.
ZORA NEALE HURSTONIt was the meanest moment of eternity.
ZORA NEALE HURSTONThere is a basin in the mind where words float around on thought and thought on sound and sight. Then there is a depth of thought untouched by words, and deeper still a gulf of formless feelings untouched by thought.
ZORA NEALE HURSTON