“If there's a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it.”

“Was it hard? I hope she didn't die hard.' Sethe shook her head. 'Soft as cream. Being alive was the hard part.”

“Me and you, we got more yesterday than anybody. We need some kind of tomorrow.”

“In this here place, we flesh; flesh that weeps, laughs; flesh that dances on bare feet in grass. Love it. Love it hard. Yonder they do not love your flesh. They despise it. They don't love your eyes; they'd just as soon pick em out. No more do they love the skin on your back. Yonder they flay it. An...”