“No matter, for the sadness was at her center, the desolated center where the self that was no self made its home. Sad as it was that she did not know where her children were buried or what they looked like if they were alive, fact was she knew more about them than she knew about herself, having never had the map to discover what she was like. Could she sing? Was she pretty? Was she a good friend? Could she have been a loving mother? A faithful wife? Have I got a sister and does she favor me? If my mother knew me would she like me?”
- Beloved, Toni Morrison.
- Beloved, Toni Morrison.