She was herself unconscious of that faint hint of offishness which hung about her and repelled advances, an arrogance that stirred in people a peculiar irritation. They noticed her, admired her clothe...
It was only that she wanted him to be happy, resenting, however, his inability to be so with things as they were, and never acknowledging that though she did want him to be happy, it was only in her o...
But there was, she knew, something else. Happiness, she supposed. Whatever that might be. What, exactly, she wondered, was happiness. Very positively she wanted it.
How stupid she had been ever to have thought that she could marry and perhaps have children in a land where every dark child was handicapped at the start by the shroud of color! She saw, suddenly, the...
Helga Crane was silent, feeling a mystifying yearning which sang and throbbed in her.
What are friends for, if not to help bear our sins?
I think being a mother is the cruelest thing in the world.
Children aren't everything. There are other things in the world, thought I admit some people don't seem to suspect it.
I feel like the oldest person in the world with the longest stretch of life before me.
Money's awfully nice to have. In fact, all things considered, I think, 'Rene, that it's even worth the price.
Everything can't be explained by some general biological phrase.
And she was interesting, an odd confusion of wit and intense earnestness; a vivid and remarkable person.
It’s funny about ‘passing.’ We disapprove of it and at the same time condone it. It excites our contempt and yet we rather admire it. We shy away from it with an odd kind of revulsion, but we protect...
She laughed and the ringing bells in her laugh had a hard metallic sound.
These people yapped loudly of race, of race consciousness, of race pride, and yet suppressed its most delightful manifestations, love of color, joy of rhythmic motion, naive, spontaneous laughter. Har...
It’s only deserters like me who have to be afraid of freaks of nature.
Somewhere, within her, in a deep recess, crouched discontent. She began to lose confidence in the fullness of her life, the glow began to fade from her conception of it. As the days multiplied, her ne...
If it hadn’t been for that, I’d have gone on to the end, never seeing any of you. But that did something to me, and I’ve been so lonely since! You can’t know. Not close to a single soul. Never anyone...
Later, when she examined her feeling of annoyance, Irene admitted, a shade reluctantly, that it arose from a feeling of being outnumbered, a sense of aloneness, in her adherence to her own class and k...
As if aware of her desire and her hesitation, Clare remarked thoughtfully: You know, ‘Rene, I’ve often wondered why more colored girls, girls like you and Margaret Hammer and Esther Dawson and—oh, lot...
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