The real hell of Hell is that it is forever.' Sula said that. She said doing anything forever and ever was hell.

I'm not entangled in shaping my work according to other people's views of how I should have done it.

Everything depends on knowing how much$$$ she said$$$ "and Good is knowing when to stop."

Sunk in the grass of an empty lot on a spring Saturday$$$ I split the stems of milkweed and thought about ants and peach pits and death and where the world went when I closed my eyes.

I don't think anybody cares about unwed mothers unless they're black or poor. The question is not morality$$$ the question is money. That's what we're upset about.

But to find out the truth about how dreams die$$$ one should never take the word of the dreamer.

Not knowing it was hard; knowing it was harder.

Lonely was much better than alone.

Thus then lived this folk in much plenty and ease of life$$$ though not delicately nor desiring things out of measure. They wrought with their hands and wearied themselves; and they rested from their toil and feasted and were merry: to-morrow was not a burden to them$$$ nor yesterday a thing which they would fain forget: life shamed them not$$$ nor did death make them afraid.

Love makes clear the eyes that else would never see: Love makes blind the eyes to all but me and thee.