Sula

Like any artist with no art form, she became dangerous.

It was a fine cry — loud and long — but it had no bottom and it had no top, just circles and circles of sorrow.

I know what every colored woman in this country is doing. . . . Dying. Just like me. But the difference is they dying like a stump. Me, I'm going down like one of those redwoods. I sure did live in this world.