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Start by following Leon Forrest.
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“My method of writing is to take the most basic kind of line and improvise on it. After all, I am the child of the culture which created Jazz.”
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“I want to look at the work. I don’t care if its white or black. I don’t agree that “If you’re white, you can’t write”. I want to see what they can do. I also don’t believe that because I am a man, I can’t write about women. I had better quit writing, if I can’t write about women. Why can’t women write about men? It’s talent that’s important.”
― Conversations with Leon Forrest
― Conversations with Leon Forrest
“It is only through the possession of an ever-illuminating library that we can come to recognize and understand the horror and wonder of the human family's Odyssey and its quest for wholeness, freedom, salvation, love, and dominion over fire, flood, suffering, and every disease and death—from the river Styx to space. Without reading as an essential resource for survival in our everyday experience, the individual . . . swings in the orchard of time, an empty-headed scarecrow—gleeful in his wilderness.”
― Relocations of the Spirit: Collected Essays
― Relocations of the Spirit: Collected Essays
“My mother died, Nathan, five years later, upon the floor of some rich folks’ place. .
.. Dropped right down by the window in the upper room of this palace-like house she used to work in... Like a leaf, Nathan, in the last days of fall, that been holding on, as if there was something to hold on towards, like a life that is out of season or out of sight and doesn’t understand it is over, but must go on blowing in the wind even though the wind ain’t got nothing to do with it, but can’t die natural neither. . . . And ’cause it is strange and rare, yes rare, it has to die suddenly . . . has to die suddenly and can’t hint that they dying cause they don’t know they dying. ...”
― There Is a Tree More Ancient Than Eden
.. Dropped right down by the window in the upper room of this palace-like house she used to work in... Like a leaf, Nathan, in the last days of fall, that been holding on, as if there was something to hold on towards, like a life that is out of season or out of sight and doesn’t understand it is over, but must go on blowing in the wind even though the wind ain’t got nothing to do with it, but can’t die natural neither. . . . And ’cause it is strange and rare, yes rare, it has to die suddenly . . . has to die suddenly and can’t hint that they dying cause they don’t know they dying. ...”
― There Is a Tree More Ancient Than Eden
“—Everything’s on my mind.... And I tell you snow
cannot mask river-deep wounds for long; nor can it coagulate broken roots....”
― There Is a Tree More Ancient Than Eden
cannot mask river-deep wounds for long; nor can it coagulate broken roots....”
― There Is a Tree More Ancient Than Eden
