My Soul to Keep (African Immortals, #1)

by Tananarive Due

“So what you’re saying is, because we’re afraid of losing the things we cherish, we shouldn’t allow ourselves to enjoy anything. Am I following you?”

And I don’t like to go through life counting the things I’d like to have done differently.

The body heals itself, but the mind does not.

Religion was a crutch, a way people rationalized away their pain in life, like the slaves yearning for a better existence. A denial. When there is no fear of death, David had told her once, there is no need for religion.

enjoying a fleeting moment before it was over as a memory,

It wasn’t merely these women’s bodies he wanted, it was their souls. Their love.

America? Nonsense, Mahmoud retorts. They are barbarians. They slaughter natives and Africans there for sport.

What if she was standing at the threshold between a good life and a remarkable life?

“It just feels like we’re running away,” she said. “Sometimes the only choice is to run away,”

Safe and comfortable is also very boring.”

We only waste energy to have horrible fights with the people we love the most.

“I’ve noticed that Americans seem to enjoy living in their unhappy pasts,

How else, except through being alone for a while, could you ever discover who you really are?

How ironic it was that mortals, who had the least time of all, were willing to waste so much of it away from people they loved.

“You hate me,” he said quietly. “I did,” she said, gazing at the air as if reading her own thoughts. “Maybe I still do. I don’t want to. That hurts too much. I didn’t ask you for this, what you’ve done to me, but now it’s done. And good things are happening because of it. So maybe you’ve blessed me. And I can’t hate you for that.”

Do not stake your attachments too deeply. In a very short amount of time—it will amaze you how quickly—one by one, they will all be gone.