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Kindle Notes & Highlights
The woman has no way of knowing her child’s fate, or if she does know, the medications will cause the memory of it to be nothing but a blur by tomorrow.
It is as if she is attempting to catch the tide, and it drains through her clenched fingers, and finally she floats out along with it.
This is what’s possible when love is real and strong, when people are devoted to one another, when they’ll sacrifice anything to be together.
This woman with the bared teeth and the cuss words and the moans and sobs can’t be her, but it is.
Yup, i feel you girl
She’d get back at us if she could, but she’s still blacker than tar, and we’re white, and she knows what could happen if she gives us trouble.
Blacker than tar is CRAZZZYYYY
Just git off our boat ’fore we go on and find the po-lice and tell them some colored woman done trieda kill our mama and steal us blind. They’ll hang you up a tree, they will.”
Camellia’s eaten enough soap to clean up the inside of a whale in her ten years. She’s practically been raised on it. It’s a wonder bubbles don’t pour out her ears.
Lol washing the mouth with soap is classic
the consumption.
Another Word for tuberculosis
like a Cajun or an Indian.
surrender papers right at the hospital on the five siblings.
Nooo :( these poor babies
slits so that she looks like the Chinamen who wash river town laundry in big, boiling kettles along the bank.
Phewwwwww chileeeee the racist comments are crazyyy
“Don’t let Riggs get you off by yourself. He ain’t the kind of friend you want.”
I really want to believe the old man is nice but it gives me the creeps
I endure my arduous labor and the sad beginnings of these little waifs so that I might rescue them and give them life and add life to countless empty homes.
I hate her
Avery, you know that Judy Stafford has always been too outspoken for her own good. It isn’t any big secret. What Elliot doesn’t realize—or maybe doesn’t want to face—is that my grandmother and I are so very much alike.
She won’t even remember mine.
Having my mom with Alz and reading this hits different
then, “Nothing matters more than your family, don’t you agree?”
Evil bitch
You tell them Hootsie say it’s time to be who they is.”
Life is not unlike cinema. Each scene has its own music, and the music is created for the scene, woven to it in ways we do not understand. No matter how much we may love the melody of a bygone day or imagine the song of a future one, we must dance within the music of today, or we will always be out of step, stumbling around in something that doesn’t suit the moment. I let go of the river’s song and found the music of that big house.
“A woman’s past need not predict her future. She can dance to new music if she chooses. Her own music. To hear the tune, she must only
stop talking. To herself, I mean. We’re always trying to persuade ourselves of things.”
His fingers close over mine, a warm, strong circle, and we walk up the hill away from the ruins of a life that was. And into a life that can be.
But the love of sisters needs no words. It does not depend on memories, or mementos, or proof. It runs as deep as a heartbeat. It is as ever present as a pulse.
