Martha☀

“I honestly don't know what's happened to you," Ellen continued. "When you were little you had all these interests. It was such a thrill, as your mother, to watch you doing your things, and imagine the person you'd grow up to be. And I'm not talking about some hotshot success at the top of his field - just a person who was engaged in the world, who had a thing he was passionate about doing. I want that for you, George, I want you to wake up in the morning and be excited to get out of bed and do whatever it is that you're passionate about. Or at least get out of bed and do it, even on the days you're not excited about it. I think you'd find there's a certain dignity in that, just getting up and doing what's expected of you, all the more so when it's not what you want to be doing, or what you expected out of life.”
― Kate Greathead, The Book of George

“Daisy: I run hot and I always have. I am not going yo sit around sweating my ass off just so men can feel more comfortable. It's not my responsibility to not turn them on. It's their responsibility to not be an asshole.”
― Taylor Jenkins Reid, Daisy Jones & The Six

“There was one question that the judge and the prosecutors and the defense never asked the jurors but that was central to the proceedings: Would a jury of twelve white men ever punish another white man for killing an American Indian? One skeptical reporter noted, “The attitude of a pioneer cattleman toward the full-blood Indian…is fairly well recognized.” A prominent member of the Osage tribe put the matter more bluntly: “It is a question in my mind whether this jury is considering a murder case or not. The question for them to decide is whether a white man killing an Osage is murder—or merely cruelty to animals.”
― David Grann, Killers of the Flower Moon: The Osage Murders and the Birth of the FBI

“And then, again, I was undergoing with my father what the very young inevitability undergo with their elders: I was beginning to judge him. And the very harshness of this judgement, which broke my heart, revealed, though I could not have said it then, how much I had loved him, how that love, along with my innocence, was dying.”
― James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room