Another Brooklyn Quotes

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Another Brooklyn Another Brooklyn by Jacqueline Woodson
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Another Brooklyn Quotes Showing 1-30 of 37
“I know now that what is tragic isn’t the moment. It is the memory.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“I lifted my head to look up into the changing leaves, thinking how at some point, we were all headed home. At some point, all of this, everything and everyone, became memory.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“Who hasn't walked through a life of small tragedies?”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“For God so loved the world, their father would say, he gave his only begotten son. But what about his daughters, I wondered. What did God do with his daughters?”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“If we had had jazz, would we have survived differently? If we had known our story was a blues with a refrain running through it, would we have lifted our heads, said to each other, This is memory again and again until the living made sense? Where would we be now if we had known there was a melody to our madness? Because even though Sylvia, Angela, Gigi, and I came together like a jazz improv - half notes tentatively moving toward one another until the ensemble found its footing and the music felt like it had always been playing - we didn't have jazz to know this was who we were. We had the Top 40 music of the 1970s trying to tell our story. It never quite figured us out.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“I knew I was lost inside the world, watching it and trying to understand why too often I felt like I was standing just beyond the frame—of everything.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“Maybe this is how it happened first for everyone—adults promising us their own failed futures.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“This earth is seventy percent water. Hard not to walk into it.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“There was a time when I believed there was loss that could not be defined, that language had not caught up to death's enormity.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“And as we stood half circle in the bright school yard, we saw the lost and beautiful and hungry in each of us. We saw home.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“I was eleven, the idea of two identical digits in my age still new and spectacular and heartbreaking. The girls must have felt this. They must have known. Where had ten, nine, eight, and seven gone?”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“Orba (feminine), the Latin word for orphaned, parentless, childless, widowed. There was a time when I believed there was loss that could not be defined, that language had not caught up to death's enormity. But it has. Orbus, orba, orbum, orbi, orbae, orborum, orbo, orbis...”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“we looked, we saw the people trying to dream themselves out. As though there was someplace other than this place. As though there was another Brooklyn.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“Creating a novel means moving into the past, the hoped for, the imagined. It is an emotional journey, fraught at times with characters who don't always do or say what a writer wishes.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“At the day's end, a writer lives alone with her story, wrestling with characters and settings, and the way light filters into and out of a scene. The deeper messages often escape her.Sometimes I take for granted the journey through the telling. At other times I curse the muse's power. But through it all, I live each day in deep gratitude.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“For a long time, my mother's wasn't dead yet. Mine could have been a more tragic story. My father could have given in to the bottle or the needle or a woman and left my brother and me to care for ourselves - or worse, in the care of New York City Children's Services, where, my father said, there was seldom a happy ending. But this didn't happen. I know now that what is tragic isn't the moment. It is the memory.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“My brother had the faith my father brought him to, and for a long time, I had Sylvia, Angela, and Gigi, the four of us sharing the weight of growing up Girl in Brooklyn, as though it was a bag of stones we passed among ourselves saying, Here. Help me carry this.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“Maybe this is how it happened first for everyone —adults promising us their own failed future.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“We were four girls together, amazingly beautiful and terrifyingly alone.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
tags: girls
“When you’re 15, pain skips over reason, aims right for the marrow.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“When boys called our names, we said 'Don't even say my name. Don't even put it in your mouth.' When they said, 'You ugly anyway,' we knew they were lying. When they hollered, 'Conceited!' we said, 'No- convinced!' We watched them dip-walk away, too young to know how to respond. The four of us together wasn't something they understood. They understood girls alone, folding their arms across their breasts, praying for invisibility.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“Two steps to the left or right or back or front and you're standing outside your life.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“I watched my brother watch the world, his sharp, too-serious brow furrowing down in both angst and wonder. Everywhere we looked, we saw the people trying to dream themselves out. As though there was someplace other than this place. As though there was another Brooklyn.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“When we asked, What do you love? Sylvia looked around her perfectly pink room and said, I’m not the boss of me. How the hell would I even know.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“We knew Down South. Everyone had one. Jamaica, Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“When we had finally become friends, when the four of us trusted each other enough to let the world surrounding us into our words, we whispered secrets. Pressed side by side by side, or sitting crossed legged in our newly tight circle. We opened our mouths and let the stories that had burned nearly to ash in our bellies finally live outside of us.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“we looked, we saw the people trying to dream themselves out. As though there was someplace other than this place. As though there was another Brooklyn. August,”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“Who hasn't walked through a life of small tragedies? 'Sister Sonja often asked me, as though to understand the depth and breadth of human suffering would be enough to pull me outside of my own.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“And when we pressed our heads to each other's hearts how did we not hear Carmen McRae singing? In Angela's fisted hands, Billie Holiday staggered past us and we didn't know her name. Nina Simone told us how beautiful we were and we didn't hear her voice.”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn
“For God so loved the world,' their father would say, 'he gave his only begotten son'. But what about his daughters, I wondered. What did God do with his daughters?”
Jacqueline Woodson, Another Brooklyn

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