She knew now that marriage did not make love. Janie's first dream was dead, so she became a woman.

It's no use of talking unless people understand what you say.

Look lak she been livin' through uh hundred years in January without one day of spring.

Bitterness is the coward's revenge on the world for having been hurt.

And I can't die easy thinking maybe the menfolks white or black is making a spit cup out of you. Have some sympathy for me. Put me down easy, Janie, I'm a cracked plate.

It seemed to me that the human beings I met reacted pretty much the same to the same stimuli. Different idioms,yes. Circumstances and conditions having power to influence, yes. Inherent difference, no.

Women forget all the things they don't want to remember, and remember everything they don't want to forget.

The spirit of the marriage left the bedroom and took to living in the parlor.

It seems that fighting is a game where everybody is the loser.

Janie saw her life like a great tree in leaf with the things suffered, things enjoyed, things done and undone. Dawn and doom was in the branches.

You heard me. You ain't blind.

The man who interprets Nature is always held in great honor.

Now, women forget all the things they don't want to remember, and remember everything they don't want to forget. The dream is the truth. Then they act and do things accordingly.

She hated the old woman who had twisted her so in the name of love. Most humans didn't love one another nohow, and this mislove was so strong that even common blood couldn't overcome it all the time.

We proaged on thru the woods that was full of magnolia, pine, cedar, oak, cypress, hickory, and many kinds of trees whose names I do not know. It is hard to know all the trees in Florida.

But as de old folks always say, Ah'm born but Ah ain't dead. No tellin' whut Ah'm liable tuh do yet.

Janie had robbed him of his illusion of irresistible maleness that all men cherish, which was terrible.

But nothin' can stop you from wishin'.

Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place.

There is something about poverty that smells like death.