James

by Percival Everett

I felt again how sick I was. I suspected at that moment that I would not die, but it was unclear whether I would be pleased about that fact.

“I’m glad you didn’t die,” Huck said. “Ima right pleased ’bout dat my own sef.” I stared into the fire. “Dyin’ can ruin a good time.”

“Way I sees it is dis. If’n ya gots to hab a rule to tells ya wha’s good, if’n ya gots to hab good ’splained to ya, den ya cain’t be good. If’n ya need sum kinda God to tells ya right from wrong, den you won’t never know.”

After being cruel, the most notable white attribute was gullibility.

Did you see their faces? They had to know them was lies, but they wanted to believe. What do you make of that?” “Folks be funny lak dat. Dey takes the lies dey want and throws away the truths dat scares ’em.”

“If you’re not making mistakes, you’re not learning.”

“This be my fault,” I said. “You might be the reason, but it’s not your fault.”