It is impossible not to feel a shiver when our feet leave the gravel path and sink into the dead grass in the field. Adults do not talk to us they give us directions. When we trip and fall down they glance at us; if we cut or bruise ourselves, they ask us are we crazy.
When we catch colds, they shake their heads in disgust at our lack of consideration. Get some rags and stuff that window."Frieda restuffs the window. I lie down in my underwear, the metal in the black garters hurts my legs, but I do not take them off, because it is too cold to lie stockingless.
New York Times Bestseller Pecola Breedlove, a young black girl, prays every day for beauty.
Mocked by other children for the dark skin, curly hair, and brown eyes that set her apart, she yearns for normalcy, for the blond hair and blue eyes that she believes will allow her to finally fit in.
Don't you have sense enough to hold your head out the bed? You think I got time for nothing but washing up your puke?
"The puke swaddles down the pillow onto the sheet green-gray, with flecks of orange. Stubbornly clinging to its own mass, refusing to break up and be removed. She is talking to the puke, but she is calling it my name: Claudia. Or rather, it was a productive and fructifying pain.Because Morrison is more willing than most authors to discuss meaning in her books, a genetic approach is very relevant.To be truly effective, though, the genetic approach must be combined with a formal approach.I believe she despises my weakness for letting the sickness "take holt." By and by I will not get sick; I will refuse to. And in the night, when my coughing was dry and tough, feet padded into the room, hands repinned the flannel, readjusted the quilt, and rested a moment on my forehead. Taut and understated, harsh in its detachment, sympathetic in its truth . So when I think of autumn, I think of somebody with hands who does not want me to die. She rolls down the window to tell my sister Frieda and me that we can't come in.We stare at her, wanting her bread, but more than that wanting to poke the arrogance out of her eyes and smash the pride of ownership that curls her chewing mouth.Beloved, Song of Solomon, The Bluest Eye, Sula, everything else — they're transcendent, all of them.You’ll be glad you read them." Barack Obama Toni Morrison is the author of eleven novels, from The Bluest Eye (1970) to God Help the Child (2015).So precise, so faithful to speech and so charged with pain and wonder that the novel becomes poetry.” —The New York Times“A profoundly successful work of fiction. Portrait of a Victim: Toni Morning’s The Bluest Eye Bryan D.