thing. Commenced to sing, commenced to sob and sigh, singing and sobbing. Then Tea Cake
came prancing around her where she was and the song of the sigh flew out of
the window and lit in the top of the pine trees. Tea Cake, with the sun for a shawl.
Of course he wasn�t dead. He could never be dead until she herself had finished
feeling and thinking. The kiss of his memory made pictures of love and light
against the wall. Here was peace. She pulled in the horizon like a great fish-net.
Pulled it from around the waist of the world and draped it over her shoulder. So
much of life in its meshes! She called in her soul to come and see.
Their Eyes Were Watching God-Zora Neale Hurston
The engine of the old car he borrowed roared, but Guitar spoke softly to her. "You
think because he doesn�t love you that you are worthless. You think because he
doesn�t want you anymore that he is right-that his judgment and opinion of you are
correct. If he throws you out, then you are garbage. You think he belongs to you
because you want to belong to him. Hagar, don�t. It�s a bad word, �belong�.
Especially when you put it with somebody you love. Love shouldn�t be like that.
Did you ever see the way the clouds love a mountain? They circle all around it; sometimes
you can�t even see that mountain for all the clouds. But you know what? You go up top
and what do you see? His head. The clouds never cover the head. His head pokes
through, because the clouds let him; they don�t wrap him up. They let him keep his
head up high, free, with nothing to hide him or bind him. Hear me Hagar?" He spoke to
her as he would to a very young child. "You can�t own a human being. You can�t lose
what you don�t own. Suppose you did own him. Could you really love somebody who was
absolutely nobody without you? You really want somebody like that? Somebody who falls
apart when you walk out the door? You don�t, do you? And neither does he. You�re
turning over your whole life to him. Your whole life, girl. And if it means so little
to you that you can just give it away, hand it to him, then why should it mean any
more to him? He can�t value you more than you value yourself." He stopped. She did
not move or give any sign that she had heard him.
Song of Solomon-Toni Morrison
One beautiful day, dangling in the sun above a valley, not the desire to urinate but sexual desire clutched him so hard he bent over in the basket. He curled up, overcome by beauty and fear, which shot to his penis. He tried to rub himself calm. Suddenly he stood up tall and squirted out into space. "I am fucking the world," he said. The world's vagina was big, big as the sky, big as the valley. He grew a habit: whenever he was lowered in the basket, his blood rushed to his penis, and he fucked the world.
China Men-Maxine Hong Kingston