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Toni Morrison
Toni Morrison (born Chloe Ardelia Wofford; February 18, 1931) is an American novelist, editor, and Professor Emeritus at Princeton University. Her novels are known for their epic themes, vivid dialogue, and richly detailed characters. Among her best known novels are The Bluest Eye (1970), Sula (1973), Song of Solomon (1977), and Beloved (1987). Morrison won the Pulitzer Prize and the American Book Award in 1988 for Beloved. Beloved was adapted into a film of the same name (starring Oprah Winfrey and Danny Glover) in 1998. Morrison was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1993. In 1996, the National Endowment for the Humanities selected her for the Jefferson Lecture, the U.S. federal government's highest honor for achievement in the humanities. She was honored with the 1996 National Book Foundation's Medal of Distinguished Contribution to American Letters. Morrison was commissioned to write the libretto for a new opera, Margaret Garner, first performed in 2005. On May 29, 2012, Morrison received the Presidential Medal of Freedo
Nobody loved her and she wouldn’t have liked it if they had, for she considered love a serious disability.
You are your best thing.
Sweet, crazy conversations full of half sentences, daydreams and misunderstandings more thrilling than understanding could ever be.
The pieces I am, she gather them and gave them back to me in all the right order.
It never looked as terrible as it was and it made her wonder if hell was a pretty place too. Fire and brimstone all right, but hidden in lacy groves.
Today is always here. Tomorrow, never.
Let me tell you something. A man ain’t a goddamn ax. Chopping, hacking, busting every goddamn minute of the day. Things get to him. Things he can’t chop down because they’re inside.
Something that is loved is never lost.
If a house burns down, it's gone, but the place--the picture of it--stays, and not just in my memory, but out there, in the world. What I remember is a picture floating around out there outside my head. I mean, even if I don't think if, even if I die, the picture of what I did, or knew, or saw is…
Me and you, we got more yesterday than anybody. We need some kind of tomorrow.
Love is or it ain't. Thin love ain't love at all.
Freeing yourself was one thing, claiming ownership of that freed self was another.
She is a friend of my mind. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order.
Freeing yourself was one thing, claiming ownership of that freed self was another.
Nobody loved her and she wouldn’t have liked it if they had, for she considered love a serious disability.
Anger is better. There is a sense of being in anger. A reality and presence. An awareness of worth. It is a lovely surging.
Each member of the family in his own cell of consciousness, each making his own patchwork quilt of reality - collecting fragments of experience here, pieces of information there. From the tiny impressions gleaned from one another, they created a sense of belonging and tried to make do with the way…
Jealousy we understood and thought natural... But envy was a strange, new feeling for us.
We mistook violence for passion, indolence for leisure, and thought recklessness was freedom.