Taylor

“Yet Alice Manfred swore she heard a complicated anger in it; something hostile that disguised itself as flourish and roaring seduction. But the part she hated most was its appetite. Its longing for the bash, the slit; a kind of careless hunger for a fight or a red ruby stickpin for a tie--either would do. It faked happiness, faked welcome, but it did not make her feel generous, this juke joint, barrel hooch, tonk house, music. It made her hold her hand in the pocket of her apron to keep from smashing it through the glass pane to snatch the world in her fist and squeeze the life out of it for doing what it did and did to her and everybody else she knew or knew about. Better to close the windows and the shutters, sweat in the summer heat of a silent Clifton Place apartment than to risk a broken window or a yelping that might not know how or where to stop.”
― Toni Morrison, Jazz

“They were never interested in how I made my food, or the stories behind how I learned. Like how my mama would sing to her gravy to make it thicken, or how she showed me that bacon fat would make butter taste like a heaven no one had ever dreamed of. Or how cornmeal was better than flour because it had weight, and having weight is how you know your worth, so don't let anyone tell you different.”
― Sarah Addison Allen, Other Birds

“Poetry" is a word for a kind of value no particular poem can realize: the value of persons, the value of human activity beyond the labor/leisure divide, a value before or beyond price. Thus hating poetry can either be a way of negatively expressing poetry as an ideal [or] it can be a defensive rage against the mere suggestion that another world, another measure of value, is possible.”
― Ben Lerner, The Hatred of Poetry

“You want a real thing?” asked Alice. “I’ll tell you a real one. You got anything left to you to love, anything at all, do it.”
― Toni Morrison, Jazz