Toni Morrison

To the two who gave me life

and the one who made me free

There is really nothing more to say—except why. But since why is difficult to handle, one must take refuge in how.

Adults do not talk to us—they give us directions. They issue orders without providing information.

So when I think of autumn, I think of somebody with hands who does not want me to die.

Outdoors, we knew, was the real terror of life. The threat of being outdoors surfaced

Outdoors, we knew, was the real terror of life. The threat of being outdoors surfaced frequently in those days. Every possibility of excess was curtailed with it. If somebody ate too much, he could end up outdoors. If somebody used too much coal, he could end up outdoors. People could gamble themselves outdoors, drink themselves outdoors. Sometimes mothers put their sons outdoors, and when that happened, regardless of what the son had done, all sympathy was with him. He was outdoors, and his own flesh had done it. To be put outdoors by a landlord was one thing—unfortunate, but an aspect of life over which you had no control, since you could not control your income.

Outdoors, we knew, was the real terror of life. The threat of being outdoors surfaced

But to be slack enough to put oneself outdoors, or heartless enough to put one’s own kin outdoors—that was criminal.

There is a difference between being put out and being put outdoors. If you are put out, you go somewhere else; if you are outdoors, there is no place to go.

To discover what eluded me: the secret of the magic they weaved on others. What made people look at them and say, “Awwwww,” but not for me?

The Breedloves did not live in a storefront because they were having temporary difficulty adjusting to the cutbacks at the plant. They lived there because they were poor and black, and they stayed there because they believed they were ugly.