“Karen wasn't hard, she was soft, too soft. A soft touch. Her hair was soft, her smile was soft, her voice was soft. She was so soft there was no resistance. Hard things sank into her, they went right through her, and if she made a real effort, out the other side. Then she didn't have to see them or hear them, or even touch them.”

“Was it hard? I hope she didn't die hard.'Sethe shook her head. 'Soft as cream. Being alive was the hard part.”

“Her bosom was as a bird's, soft and slight, slight and soft as the breast of some dark-plumaged dove. But her long fair hair was girlish: and girlish, and touched with the wonder of mortal beauty, her face.”

“The sun came through the branches of the tree above her, and Ruth looked up past them. "I think she listens," she said, too softly to be heard.”

“I would listen to her soft voice and wonder if, somewhere deep inside, she was screaming, too.”

“Soft. She was so soft, and warm. So giving as she moved with him. Rising to take him in, the covers shrouding her back as she arched.His lips clasped her nipple and she cried out, her fingernails dragging down his hips. She clamped around him. Squeezing. Taking. Giving more.”