No one will love you more than you love your pain.
...women, brave as stars at dawn - Edwidge Danticat
...women, brave as stars at dawn
- Edwidge Danticat
Life was neither something you defended by hiding nor surrendered calmly on other people's terms, but something you lived bravely, out in the open, a… - Edwidge Danticat
Life was neither something you defended by hiding nor surrendered calmly on other people's terms, but something you lived bravely, out in the open, a…
No one will love you more than you love your pain. - Edwidge Danticat
Write what haunts you. What keeps you up at night. What you are unable to get out of your mind. Sometimes they are the hardest things to write, but t… - Edwidge Danticat
Write what haunts you. What keeps you up at night. What you are unable to get out of your mind. Sometimes they are the hardest things to write, but t…
Pretend that this is a time of miracles and we believe in them. - Edwidge Danticat
Pretend that this is a time of miracles and we believe in them.
We need literature because we wouldn’t fully know ourselves without it. We need good literature to be fully human. - Edwidge Danticat
We need literature because we wouldn’t fully know ourselves without it. We need good literature to be fully human.
Create dangerously, for people who read dangerously. ... Writing, knowing in part that no matter how trivial your words may seem, someday, somewhere,… - Edwidge Danticat
Create dangerously, for people who read dangerously. ... Writing, knowing in part that no matter how trivial your words may seem, someday, somewhere,…
When you write ,it's like braiding your hair. Taking a handful of coarse unruly strands and attempting to bring then unity. - Edwidge Danticat
When you write ,it's like braiding your hair. Taking a handful of coarse unruly strands and attempting to bring then unity.
I come from a place where breath, eyes, and memory are one, a place from which you carry your past like a hair on your head. Where women return to th… - Edwidge Danticat
I come from a place where breath, eyes, and memory are one, a place from which you carry your past like a hair on your head. Where women return to th…
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