Richard’s Reviews > The Book of Night Women > Status Update
Richard
is on page 300 of 427
Lilith hate him, she know she do, she just didn't know that hate was goin' be just like what Homer say love be like. That she would have to guard it, lock it up in a pen like wild animal, for every chance hatred get, it flee.
— Oct 15, 2015 06:14AM
Lilith hate him, she know she do, she just didn't know that hate was goin' be just like what Homer say love be like. That she would have to guard it, lock it up in a pen like wild animal, for every chance hatred get, it flee.
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Richard’s Previous Updates
Richard
is on page 400 of 427
Mayhaps he think this be the bawling that woman do to cleanse themselves. The bawling that mean she free herself from whatever did bound her and just like a woman she need tears to wash it all away. But Lilith cry because her heart couldn't cleanse, because she couldn't wash away nothing and what he want she could never give him.
— Oct 15, 2015 09:16PM
Richard
is on page 250 of 427
This novel is terrific.
Lilith can't sleep, not 'cause the cuts from the whip burnin' her, but because darkness burnin' in her own heart. Ashanti blood racing through her and she can't stop thinking about white people shedding theirs.
— Oct 13, 2015 04:38PM
Lilith can't sleep, not 'cause the cuts from the whip burnin' her, but because darkness burnin' in her own heart. Ashanti blood racing through her and she can't stop thinking about white people shedding theirs.
Richard
is on page 176 of 427
Slave death is nothing new and a strong nigger learn to walk past it but Lilith look down on her own hands and keep seeing blood. Lilith wishing and begging that she can call up the white part of her, the part that can bear with killing a nigger like is nothing. She still hoping that her white half, her green eyes, can save her from her own looking glass that don't hang on no wall.
— Oct 12, 2015 09:05PM
Richard
is on page 3 of 427
People think blood red, but blood don't got no colour. Not when blood wash the floor she lying on as she scream for that son of a bitch to come, the lone baby of 1785. Not when the baby wash in crimson and squealing like it just depart heaven to come to hell, another place of red.
— Oct 09, 2015 03:46PM
