My mother used to do all the things that were important to her after midnight. ... Sometimes I'd sneak downstairs and see her knitting, or reading, or writing letters. I'd think of her as a thief, stealing the tail end… — Marita Golden Copy Share Image
I am a stranger to half measures. With life I am on the attack, restlessly ferreting out each pleasure, foraging for answers, wringing from… — Marita Golden Copy Share Image
Ironically, white America will catapult books about race to the top of the best-seller list, even as racism remains a national open wound. Obsession… — Marita Golden Copy Share Image
“We knew no one man had killed the prophet. Rather, the combined weight of racism and an absence of moral courage had crushed him.… — Marita Golden Copy Share Image
We black women must forgive black men for not protecting us against slavery, racism, white men, our confusion, their doubts. And black men must… — Marita Golden Copy Share Image
Love is going to replace life and from then on it's all smooth sailing. Love will replace life. — Marita Golden Copy Share Image
Imagination bound us stronger than love. Within its limitless borders we launched ships and love affairs, discovered lost worlds, made buildings and babies, found… — Marita Golden Copy Share Image
The symbiotic relationship between reading and writing is a cornerstone of our individual intellectual journey and our educational system. We write as an act… — Marita Golden Copy Share Image
Novelists have to love humanity to write anything worthwhile. Poets have to love themselves. — Marita Golden Copy Share Image
Racism is a virus. And since nobody's really looking too hard for a cure it reproduces itself over and over again. — Marita Golden Copy Share Image
To my father, who told me the stories that matter. To my mother, who taught me to remember them. — Marita Golden Copy Share Image
“My life is too important to share with someone who can't understand it.” — marita golden Copy Share Image
My mother used to do all the things that were important to her after midnight. ... Sometimes I'd sneak downstairs and see her knitting,… — Marita Golden Copy Share Image
I quickly learned that motherhood was a high wire act sometimes performed without a net. — Marita Golden Copy Share Image
