A tree is made to live in peace in the color of day and in friendship with the sun, the wind and the rain. Its roots plunge in thefat fermentation of the soil, sucking in its elemental humors, its fortifying… — Jacques Roumain Copy Share Image
At noon, you walk across a river. It is dry, with not this much water: it is just stones and pebbles. But it rains cats and dogs in the mountains, and towards afternoon, the water descends wildly and she ravages… — Jacques Roumain Copy Share Image
The old men of the village of Mahotière say that the Mistress of the Water is a mulatto woman. At midnight she comes out… — Jacques Roumain Copy Share Image
She sang a song that sounds like life; I mean it was sad. Délira knew no other types ofsongs. She didn't sing loud, and… — Jacques Roumain Copy Share Image
As they say, when a man begins to have bad luck, even clabber can break his head. — Jacques Roumain Copy Share Image
Misfortune is never invited. And it comes and sits at the table without permission and it eats, leaving nothing but bones. — Jacques Roumain Copy Share Image
And at dawn, the drums still beat on the sleepless plain like an unstoppable heart. — Jacques Roumain Copy Share Image
The sacrifice to Legba was completed; the Master of the Crossroads had taken the loas' mysterious routes back to his native Guinea. Meanwhile, the… — Jacques Roumain Copy Share Image
You cannot eat a cluster of grapes at once, but it is very easy if you eat them one by one. — Jacques Roumain Copy Share Image
A tree is made to live in peace in the color of day and in friendship with the sun, the wind and the rain.… — Jacques Roumain Copy Share Image
Peasants are a rude lot, and hard: life has hardened their hearts, but they are thick and awkward only in appearance; you have to… — Jacques Roumain Copy Share Image
Back then we were better-behaved than you young boystoday; we were better instructed; so I start in my bestest French:Mademoiselle, from the first time… — Jacques Roumain Copy Share Image
Water. Its sunny track in the plain; its splashing in the garden canal, the sound it makes when in its course it meets the… — Jacques Roumain Copy Share Image
