“I don't regret it, but I don't feel quite as lucky anymore.”

“A bitter seed was planted inside of me. And I just didn’t feel so, accepting, anymore.”

“I used to believe in em (lines). I don't anymore. They in our heads. Lines between black and white ain't there neither. Some folks just made those up, long time ago. And that go for the white trash and the so-ciety ladies too.”

“It weren’t too loo long before I seen something in me, had changed. A bitter seed was planted inside of me. And I just didn’t feel so, accepting, anymore.”

“And I know there are plenty of other "colored" things I could do besides telling my stories or going to Shirley Boon's meetings- the mass meetings in town, the marches in Birmingham, the voting rallies upstate. But truth is, I don't care that much about voting. I don't care about eating at a counter with white people. What I care about is, if in ten years, a white lady will call my girls dirty and accuse them of stealing the silver.”

“I set her on her wooden baby seat so her little hiney don't fall in and soon as I turn my back, she off that pot running.”

“How tall are you, Constantine?” I asked, unable to hide my tears.Constantine narrowed her eyes at me. “How tall is you?”“Five-eleven,” I cried. “I’m already taller than the boys’ basketball coach.”“Well, I’m five-thirteen, so quit feeling sorry for yourself.”