At an astonishingly young age, Edwidge Danticat has become one of our most celebrated new novelists, a writer who evokes the wonder, terror, and heartache of her native Haiti--and the enduring strength of Haiti's women--with a vibrant imagery and narrative grace that bear witness to her... read more
“They are the people of Creation. Strong, tall and mighty people who can bear anything. . . . These people do not know who they are, but if you see a lot of trouble in your life, it is because you were chosen to carry part of the sky on your head.”
Tante Atie told me that my mother loved daffodils because they grew in a place that they were not supposed to.Highlighted by 14 Kindle customers
My flesh ripped apart as I pressed the pestle into it. I could see the blood slowly dripping onto the bed sheet. I took the pestle and the bloody sheet and stuffed them into a bag. It was gone, the veil that always held my mother's finger back every time she tested me.Highlighted by 12 Kindle customers
'I call it humiliation,' I said. 'I hate my body. I am ashamed to show it to anybody, including my husband. Sometimes I feel like I should be off somewhere by myself. That is why I am here.'Highlighted by 11 Kindle customers
Tante Atie once said that love is like rain. It comes in a drizzle sometimes. Then it starts pouring and if you're not careful it will drown you.Highlighted by 11 Kindle customers
My mother now had two lives: Marc belonged to her present life, I was a living memory from the past.Highlighted by 10 Kindle customers
'You are going to work hard here,' she said, 'and no one is going to break your heart because you cannot read or write. You have a chance to become the kind of woman Atie and I have always wanted to be. If you make something of yourself in life, we will all succeed. You can raise our heads.'Highlighted by 9 Kindle customers
She did not look like the picture Tante Atie had on her night table. Her face was long and hollow. Her hair had a blunt cut and she had long spindly legs. She had dark circles under her eyes and, as she smiled, lines of wrinkles tightened her expression. Her fingers were scarred and sunburned. It was as though she had never stopped working in the cane fields after all.Highlighted by 9 Kindle customers
It took me twelve years to piece together my mother's entire story. By then, it was already too late.Highlighted by 9 Kindle customers
I come from a place where breath, eyes, and memory are one, a place from which you carry your past like the hair on your head. Where women return to their children as butterflies or as tears in the eyes of the statues that their daughters pray to. My mother was as brave as stars at dawn. She too was from this place. My mother was like that woman who could never bleed and then could never stop bleeding, the one who gave in to her pain, to live as a butterfly. Yes, my mother was like me.Highlighted by 8 Kindle customers
I looked at my red eyes in the mirror while splashing cold water over my face. New eyes seemed to be looking back at me. A new face all-together. Someone who had aged in one day, as though she had been through a time machine, rather than an airplane. Welcome to New York, this face seemed to be saying. Accept your new life. I greeted the challenge, like one greets a new day. As my mother's daughter and Tante Atie's child.Highlighted by 7 Kindle customers
Chapters 1-35, untitlted
Preceded by Black and Blue, and followed by I Know This Much Is True.
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