The Best Novels Are Those That Are

Honesty. And I Just Really Think There's A Fundamental Friendship That Needs To Exist, Whether It's A Lover, Whether It's A Sister...there's Just This Connection Both People Need To Be Effortlessly Themselves.

Her Blog Was Doing Well, With Thousands Of Unique Visitors Each Month, And She Was Earning Good Speaking Fees, And She Had A Fellowship At Princeton And A Relationship With Blaine - "you Are The Absolute Love Of My Life," He'd Written In Her Last Birthday Card - And Yet There Was Cement In Her Soul. It Had Been There For A While, An Early Morning Disease Of Fatigue, Shapeless Desires, Brief Imaginary Glints Of Other Lives She Could Be Living, That Over The Months Melded Into A Piercing Homesickness.

At Some Point I Was A Happyafricanfeminist Who Does Not Hate Men. And Who Likes Lip Gloss And Who Wears High Heels For Herself But Not For Men.

The Higher You Go, The Fewer Women There Are.

Our Histories Cling To Us. We Are Shaped By Where We Come From.