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Quote by Zora Neale Hurston

“It seems to me that organized creeds are collections of words around a wish. I feel no need for such. I know that nothing is destructible; things merely change forms. When the consciousness we know as life ceases, I know that I shall still be part and parcel of the world.”

Quote by Zora Neale Hurston

Work

Dust tracks on a road

Dust Tracks on a Road is a candid and evocative memoir that chronicles the author's upbringing in the rural South during the early 20th century. The narrative delves into Hurston's personal journey, exploring themes of identity, race, and cultural heritage through her own life story. more

Author

Zora Neale Hurston
Zora Neale Hurston

Zora Neale Hurston (1891-1960) was an American anthropologist, folklorist, and novelist who played a pivotal role in the Harlem Renaissance. Born in Alabama and raised in Eatonville, Florida, she became the first African American student at Barnard College, Columbia University, studying under Franz Boas. Hurston is best known for her novel "Their Eyes Were Watching God," now considered a classic of American literature. She conducted extensive anthropological fieldwork in the American South and Caribbean, preserving African American folk traditions. Though largely forgotten after her death, her work was revived by Alice Walker in the 1970s, establishing her as a foundational figure in African American literature and anthropology. more

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“Busy street of emotions On a languid Sunday afternoon on the busy street, Everything everywhere appeared to be missing a beat, Few of their desires, of their hopes, many of their own dreams, And in midst of all this I could hear strange screams, There was rush, there was movement, there was life in its busiest state, Many loved to be a part of it whereas a few showed all signs of hate, They were the ones who were not chasing life, they were after something different, That the busy street did not offer, and to the most people caught in its glamour it nothing meant, To me all appeared to be seeking the same illusive something, A thing that is born of nothing, and to a few it means everything, That something, about which I had no clue, but the busy street certainly knew about it, It knew everything about it, But it had concealed it from all, happy and sad alike, For now it had kept everyone busy pursuing what he/she liked, and what next he/she would like, It was then she appeared in the busiest corner of the street, Where people crossed each other; but noone nobody did ever meet, They all saw other people's eyes but not what their eyes could see, All were in this maze of fascinations where they had been before, but there they again and again wished to be, And then she got up and left this busy corner, And whispered in my ear, “let me show you a life that is real and livelier!” I followed her wherever she went, And that is how my Sunday was spent, Finally as the evening set in and people began to feel weary, And life too seemed dreary, I looked at the once busy street that was now empty and desolate, “This is the fact of life, and this is what you shall be able to isolate!” With these last words she disappeared, And now on the street, only I and my infinite avatars appeared, Everywhere, in everything, and the street got busy again, Because now I was dealing with life in its reality: joy, sorrow, love, faith, defection, everything and even pain, So whenever you visit this busy street, walk towards everything with every feeling, Because in our lives we all are either with retreating joy or with an advancing pain dealing!”