“Always remember the acronym for "FEAR" can mean one of two things: Fuck Everything And Run or Face Everything And Recover.”
“She talked about wanting to be a part of something, wanting to be desired, to be 'special', craving to be loved. She talked about experiencing the kind of loneliness so immense it could swallow you up. She called it 'loneliness that crowds couldn't cure'.”
“It's okay to be afraid. It's not okay to let the fear STOP you.”
“Instead of asking WHY you had to do it, how about just thanking Him for safely bringing you THROUGH it.”
“I'd learned not to put a question mark where God put a period.”
“You do the foot work, and leave the results up to God.”
“Oprah got her money," she snapped. "You trying to get YOURS! No, turn off that fuckin' TV and get to studying!”
“My grandmother say you lay down with dogs you get up with fleas. A hard head makes a soft behind. Life is like a box of chocolates you never know what you're going to get.”
“Oh, get off the cross!” V shouted when I shared my thoughts with her on the phone. “We need the wood!”
“I didn’t know much about God, ’cept that if you pissed Him off, He’d getcha one day. My momma knew God—she was raised a Methodist. In fact, her daddy was a Methodist preacher. Still, Momma said she wanted more from God, so for the past couple of years she’d been searching for more. I got to go with her on some of those searches. First, we tried the Jehovah’s Witnesses. They were cool, till I learned they didn’t celebrate Christmas. God or no God, I wasn’t giving up Christmas! Then we tried the Muslims (or the “Black Muslims,” as Momma called them). I didn’t like them because when we got to their church (which they called a mosque), they made us change our clothes and put on some of their clothes: floor-length dresses and material to wrap our heads in so our hair wouldn’t show. And they searched us too, which pissed me off. But Momma seemed to understand; she said it was because white folks thought the Muslims were militant, so white folks was always messing with ’em—you know, harassing them, arresting them, threatening them. Momma said the Muslims had to be careful so that’s why they were searching folks. uring Momma’s God search, we tried a few other religions. I never really did care one way or the other. I never really seriously thought about God because, no matter what the religion, they all wanted you to be perfect. And I knew I was far from perfect. So I figured God wouldn’t wanna mess with me. I don’t know which religion Momma finally decided on. Maybe she realized she didn’t need a particular religion to know and love God or for God to know and love her. Whatever she decided, she also decided that she wasn’t going to choose for me. She wanted to wait until I was old enough and then let me decide my religion.”
“I wondered how television worked. I thought about how an interior decorator decided on colors and styles. I wondered, when babies tarted learning how to walk, if they didn't know that that couldn't walk.”
“You’re not always going to be able to see the big picture. But you’ve got to know that, no matter what, you’ll be okay. Keep praying.”
“What I do know is that love, real love, true unconditional love, transcends age, race, and religious beliefs. It sees the good, focuses on the good, and constantly emphasizes it.”
“You’ve got to learn to trust Him, Cup. You’re not always going to be able to see the big picture.”
“But ignorance manufactures denial. So though my eyes were sometimes black or swollen, my lips puffy or busted, though I often intentionally wore clothes that would hide the black and blue bruises scattered all over my body, or grit my teeth through the pain in an effort to walk so I could look as if nothing were wrong—when in fact my entire body was sore—I believed that as long as he didn’t break any bones, it wasn’t really violence.”
“I was still pondering her comments, when she hit me with the bomb. She said that the only time a woman is ready for a man in her life is when she didn’t need one.”
“Return me to that bitch?" I shouted to the sky. "Fuck you! I can take care of myself!”
“The only thing that mattered was that the quarter century or so he had remaining would be his life, to live out as he chose and in his own best interests. Nothing took precedence over that: not work, not friendships, not relationships with women. Those were all components of his life, and valuable ones, but they did not define it or control it. That was up to him, and him alone.”
“So you're Zach." Townsend didn't even try to hide the judgement in his voice as he looked Zach up and down in some sort of silent but dangerous examination.
Zach huffed but smiled. "so you're Townsend."
The two of them stared for a long time, wordless. It felt like I was watching a documentary on the Nature Channel, something about alpha males in the wild.”
“Seth hustled over. “What’s the password?”
“Passwords are for sissies,” Warren’s muffled voice responded.
“Works for me,” Seth said, unlocking the door and opening it.”
“Children make that big a difference to you? He asked. I nodded. Yeah, they do. I never figured you as the maternal type. I'm not, but kids are people, Edward, little people trapped by the choices the adults around them make.”
“What use were his talons and fangs to the dying tiger? In the clutches, say, to make matters worse, of a boa-constrictor? But apparently this improbable tiger had no intention of dying just yet. On the contrary, he intended taking a little walk, taking the boa-constrictor with him, even to pretend, for a while, it wasn't there.”
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