I love playing with form. I love playing with sounds... I love music, and I love writing that has a musicality to it. — Jacqueline Woodson Copy Share Image
“But that afternoon there was an orchestra playing. Music filling the brownstone. Black fingers pulling violin bows and strumming cellos, dark lips around horns, a small brown girl with pale pink nails on flute. Malcolm’s younger brother, his dark skin… — Jacqueline Woodson Copy Share Image
A lot of times, when people send me books to read - new writers mostly - I find that the book is still in… — Jacqueline Woodson Copy Share Image
I think, even though homophobia still exists, there is much more of a dialogue and a taboo around being homophobic. — Jacqueline Woodson Copy Share Image
I still love Carson McCullers and Raymond Carver and Toni Morrison and James Baldwin. — Jacqueline Woodson Copy Share Image
I'm usually working on several things at once. If I get bored with one, I can go on to another. That way, I never… — Jacqueline Woodson Copy Share Image
You have those walls up all around you...Come a day you gonna want to tear them down brick by brick and gonna find that… — Jacqueline Woodson Copy Share Image
“That's all anybody is-themselves. People all the time wanting to change that.” — Jacqueline Woodson Copy Share Image
Who are you without your girls? I truly believe that. Who are you without the people who help you make sense of the misogyny,… — Jacqueline Woodson Copy Share Image
“And freedom? Oh, freedom. Well that's just some people talking. Your prison is walking through this world all alone.” — Jacqueline Woodson Copy Share Image
I've learned about marrying poetry and prose and making both accessible. — Jacqueline Woodson Copy Share Image
You're a part of me...You're in my heart. Forever and always, all right? —D — Jacqueline Woodson Copy Share Image
I wouldn't mind the early autumn if you came home today I'd tell you how much I miss you and know I'd be okay. It's funny how we never know exactly how our life will go It's funny how a dream can fade with the break of day. Time can't erase the memory and time can't bring you home Last… — Jacqueline Woodson Copy Share
