“Baby," I said, "I'm a genius but nobody knows it but me.”
“I'm a misunderstood genius.""What's misunderstood?""Nobody thinks I'm a genius.”
“Whatever are we to do about you, baby girl? Huh?' 'Kill me, I guess.' 'That idea has been said already. Got'ny other ones?' 'Help me. Ain't nobody said that idea yet, have they?”
“Feel it, baby. Memorize it. Learn to love it, 'cause it's all you'll ever know. Just me. Nobody else.”
“I'm me and nobody else; and whatever people think I am or say I am, that's what I'm not, because they don't know a bloody thing about me.”
“Well, all I hope," said Miss Cornelia calmly, "is that when I'm dead nobody will call me 'our departed sister.”