In the summer of 1964, my sister and I went to South Ballston, Virginia, to stay with my aunt and her kids. They passed the civil rights bill that summer; my cousins were so happy because now they could swim… — Edward P. Jones Copy Share Image
My mother worked in the white world, but I lived almost exclusively in a black world. I don't think I had ever seen a… — Edward P. Jones Copy Share Image
Those of us with this ancient compulsion to tell stories sometimes start with a single kernel of something. — Edward P. Jones Copy Share Image
In the summer of 1964, my sister and I went to South Ballston, Virginia, to stay with my aunt and her kids. They passed… — Edward P. Jones Copy Share Image
“You too heavy a man for me to carry...I done carried heavy men and I know how they can break your back. I ain’t… — Edward P. Jones Copy Share Image
“Without all that young stuff, Stamford, you will die a slave. And it will not be a pretty die.” — Edward P. Jones Copy Share Image
“She went through her memory for the time, for the day, she and and her husband told him all about what he should and… — Edward P. Jones Copy Share Image
“A man does not learn very well, Mr. Robbins. Women, yes, because they are used to bending with whatever wind comes along. A woman,… — Edward P. Jones Copy Share Image
From my apartment in Arlington, I could see Washington. It was always nice to be near home. — Edward P. Jones Copy Share Image
Until I can read a story physically, with the eyes, it doesn't seem to exist for me. — Edward P. Jones Copy Share Image
“God is in his heaven and he don't care most of the time. The trick of life is to know when God does care… — Edward P. Jones Copy Share Image
I'm fascinated by the awful, awful things that human beings do to each other. — Edward P. Jones Copy Share Image
Something happened during the 1980s - perhaps the political climate of that time - that caused me to ask how a people would become… — Edward P. Jones Copy Share Image
“When Augustus Townsend died in Georgia near the Florida line, he rose up above the barn where he had died, up above the trees… — Edward P. Jones Copy Share Image
I never like to put myself in the stories; in 'Lost in the City,' there are fourteen stories, and there's only one, 'The First… — Edward P. Jones Copy Share Image
