Zora Neale Hurston

Love, I find, is like singing.

If you want that good feeling that comes from doing things for other folks then you have to pay for it in abuse and misunderstanding.

He was the average mortal. It troubled him to get used to the world one way and then suddenly have it turn different.

The man who interprets Nature is always held in great honor.

There is something about poverty that smells like death.

Gods always behave like the people who make them.

No matter how far a person can go the horizon is still way beyond you.

An envious heart makes a treacherous ear.

I feel most colored when I am thrown against a sharp white background........Beside the waters of the Hudson" I feel my race. Among the thousand white persons, I am a dark rock surged upon, and overswept, but through it all, I remain myself. When covered by the waters, I am; and the ebb but reveals me again." How It Feels to Be Colored Me

So the brother in black offers to these United States the source of courage that endures, and laughter.

anytime you catch folks lying, they scared of something!

She knew now that marriage did not make love. Janie’s first dream was dead, so she became a woman.

Research is formalized curiosity. It is poking and prying with a purpose.

Through indiscriminate suffering men know fear, and fear is the most divine emotion. It is the stones for altars and the beginning of wisdom.

I belong to no race nor time. I am the eternal feminine with its string of beads.

Happiness is nothing but everyday living seen through a veil.

A great state is a well-blended mash of something of all the people and all of none of the people. The liquor of statecraft is distilled from the mash you got.

I do not pray. . . . I do not expect God to single me out and grant me advantages over my fellow men. . . . Prayer seems to me a cry of weakness, and an attempt to avoid, by trickery, the rules of the game as laid down. I do not choose to admit weakness. I accept the challenge of responsibility.

Gods always love the people who make em.

Oh to be a pear tree – any tree in bloom! With kissing bees singing of the beginning of the world!

It is so easy to be hopeful in the daytime when you can see the things you wish on. But it was night, it stayed night. Night was striding across nothingness with the whole round world in his hands . . . They sat in company with the others in other shanties, their eyes straining against cruel walls and their souls asking if He meant to measure their puny might against His. They seemed to be staring at the dark, but their eyes were watching God.