Ankita

“Minny came ever day to make sure I was breathing, feed me food to keep me living.

All I know is, I ain't saying it. And I know she ain't saying what she want a say either and it's a strange thing happening here cause nobody saying nothing and we still managing to have us a conversation.

"Mama, it would really be so terrible if I never met a husband?"

Write about what disturbs you, particularly if it bothers no one else.

I stare at her, wishing the ceiling fan would fly from its post, crash down on both of us.

I feel tears come up in my eyes, cause three years just ain't long enough. A hundred years ain't gone be long enough.


Eugenia, just because this is a hospital doesn't mean I'm an invalid"

"you kind. you smart. you important."

See, I think if God had intended for white people and colored people to be this close together for so much of the day, he would've made us color-blind.

Every time a Negro complained about the cost of living didn't mean she was begging for money.


But the truth is, I don't care about voting. I don't care about eating at a counter with white people. What I care about is, if, in ten years, a white lady will call my girls dirty and accuse them of stealing the silver.

when you little, you only get to ask two questions, what's your name and how old you is, so you better get em right.

Mister Jonny knows about me. Miss Celia Knows Mister Jony know about me. But Mister Jonny doesn't know that Miss Celia knows he knows.

"Yes ma'am. I tell her." In about a hundred years.

How an awful day could turn even worse. It seems like at some point you'd just run out of awful.

Lots of folks think if you talk back to your husband, you crossed the line. And that justifies punishment.

She can take the most complicated things in life and wrap them up so small and simple, they'll fit right in your pocket.

"Don't you let him cheapen you. If Stuart doesn't know how intelligent and kind I raised you to be, he can march straight on back to State Street. Frankly, I don't care much for Stuart. He doesn't know how lucky he was to have you."

You tell her we love her, like she's our own family.

"You a beautiful person, Minny."

Mississippi is like my mother. I am allowed to complain about her all I want, but God help the person who raises an ill word about her around me unless she is their mother too.

For the dishonesty upon which a society is founded makes every emotion suspect, makes it impossible to know whether what flowed between two people was honest feeling or pity or pragmatism”
― Kathryn Stockett, The Help

“I ordered one more and the bartender made a deal with me. He'd only splash whiskey on my ice if I gave him my car keys. That sounded like a good deal to me and I took it.

"Death is my beat"

"Technically, I don't work for you. My paper has rules about reporters misrepresenting themselves."
Schifino reached into his pocket and pulled out his cash. He handed a dollar across the desk to me. I reached across the murder scene photos to take it.
"There," he said. "I just paid you a dollar. You work for me."

I thought he was guilty as sin. It was the only way I could live with losing the case.

Abasiophilia.
Paraphilia.
Single-Bullet Theory: "I mean like the love of your life. Everybody's got one person out there. One bullet. And if you're lucky in life, you get to meet that person. And once you do, once you're shot through the heart, then there's nobody else. No matter what happens--death, divorce, infidelity, whatever--nobody else can ever come close. That's the single-bullet theory."

Unrelenting pain. He waited for someone to stop it. To save him from it. But no one came. No one heard him.
He waited in darkness.”
― Michael Connelly, The Scarecrow

“Olof Palme was the Prime Minister of Sweden from 1969 to 1976 and 1982 to 1986. He was assassinated in 1986, shot twice in a street ambush in central Stockholm. His murder remains unsolved.

I believe that everyone has it in them to kill another person. In desperation or hatred, or at least to defend themselves.

Its not a sex shop. Its a fashion boutique for people who like sexy underwear.

She cured her gender. Nobody would have attack her if she has been a man.

I can feel tat she is close...Wait a minute, I'll check my telepathic power.

Good God, she's a fucking crazy killer.

"You have one chance to survive the night," she said. "One chance-not two. I'm going to ask you a number of questions. If you answer them, I'll let you live. Nod if you understand.”
― Steig Larsson, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo: Books 1-3

“He was making up for it now, even if only to himself, because he still felt impelled to put on a good face for the world, it seemed bad manners to do otherwise. 'If you can't say something nice.', his mother had tutored him, 'then don't say anything at all.'

The hair was real. Crystal had no idea who it had once belonged to. She'd worried it might have come from a corpse but her hairdresser said, 'Nah, from a temple in India. The women shave their heads for some kind of religious thing and the monks sell it.'

That's how Crystal referred to it - 'Got your head stuck in a book again, Harry?' It would be funny if his head did actually get stuck in a book.

Her heart wasn't shattered, just cracked, although cracked was bad enough.

"Are you Mrs Bragg?' Reggie asked.
"Maybe," the woman said. Well, you either are or you aren't. Reggie thought. You're not Schrodinger's cat.

What do you call a nest of lesbians? A dyke eyrie.

"Great,' she said, so he knew she wasn't listening. An increasing number of people, Jackson had noticed lately, were not listening to him.

Dogs, you know, stay by their master's side after they've died. Fido, Hachiko, Ruswrap, Old Shep, Squeak, Spot. There was a list on Wikipedia.

I am the repository of useless knowledge.

Jackson had never really seen the point of existential angst. if you didn't like something you changed it and if you couldn't change it you sucked it up and soldiered on, one foot after the other. ('Remind me not to come to you for therapy,' Julia said.)

This was better, Jackson thought, all he had to do was utilize the lyrics from country songs, they contained better advice than anything he could conjure up himself. Best to avoid Hank, though - 'I'm so lonesome I could cry. I'll never get out of this world alive. I don't care if tomorrow never comes. Poor old Hank, not good mental fodder of a man who had just tried to jump off a cliff.

'Diaeresis - the two little dots above the "e", its not an umlaut.

Reggie thought if a day would ever goes by when she is not disappointed in people.

"Jesus Christ, Crystal,' he said, dropping the baseball bat and pulling off his shoes, prepare to jump in and save Tommy. So he could kill him later.”
― Kate Atkinson, Big Sky