To me, the brilliance of exceptional writing is in the author's ability to capture a common experience and translate it with uncommon beauty and precision. Such is the work of one of my literary idols, Zora Neale Hurston. She was a renegade author who lit up the Harlem Renaissance. Her plight was certainly on a scale more important, larger and deeper than mine; but her words ring true. I know I’m not the only one. Food for thought, friends…here you go:
“If you are silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it.”
“I made up my mind to keep my feelings to myself since they did not seem to matter to anyone else but me.”
“She had an inside and an outside now and suddenly she knew how not to mix them.”
“She stood there until something fell off the shelf inside her.”
“...she starched and ironed her face, forming it into just what people wanted to see…”
“She had waited all her life for something, and it had killed her when it found her.”
“I have known the joy and pain of friendship. I have served and been served. I have made some good enemies for which I am not a bit sorry. I have loved unselfishly, and I have fondled hatred with the red-hot tongs of Hell. That's living.”
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