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Quote by Edwidge Danticat

“I sometimes feel as though we are all daughters of the same mythical mother. Some of us are super direct, funny. Others are pensive, inquisitive, maudlin, bitter, sarcastic, or a combination of all those things. Yet we have all been orphaned, except by our words, which we eventually turn to in order to make sense of the impossible, the unknowable.”

Quote by Edwidge Danticat

Work

The Art of Death: Writing the Final Story

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Author

Edwidge Danticat
Edwidge Danticat

Edwidge Danticat is a Haitian-American author known for her profound exploration of themes such as immigration, family, and identity. Her works, often set against the backdrop of Haitian culture, reflect her personal experiences and the broader social political issues surrounding them. more

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“A woman's death is a simple enough thing perhaps; women will always be dying about the place; no doubt several women have died as I have been writing this sentence; only this one woman who concerns me now, this one woman tied up to the rafters, unlike all the others in the world - this woman was my mother. Before, I had always had Mother to hide behind; now I was exposed. Her death was not a quiet, thinking-death like Father's had been, her death was about business; it was all hurried action; Mother had jolted herself out of life.”

“Shadow enjoyed the easy, sweet Sunday life of the farmhouse when the two women traded stories and song. Coffee and cream. Laughter and tears. He liked Lora. She brought him creamy treats, not the dry stuff. And when she laughed at his snoring underneath the table, she would awaken him so he would not miss any of the action. He enjoyed this ma-triarchate much more than Ted’s rough reign. Sometimes, lying at the feet of Lora and Alice, on the cool kitchen floor, Shadow dreamed. He dreamed of the ancient times when tribal mothers ruled. Men hunted, but it was the women who shaped the wolves and the babies by the ring of fire into magic dogs and magic men.”

“It wasn't just hostility I felt around my mother, it was inadequacy. I had loved my early childhood with her. We'd spent long hours playing beauty parlor and teay party, baking holiday cookies.”