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Southern Quotes

“But no one could say he hadn't gotten even. He could not count the field women whom he had sexually degraded and demoralized and in whom he had left his seed so their bastard children would be a daily visual reminder of what a plantation white man could do to a plantation black woman whenever he wanted, nor could he count the black men whom he had made fear his blackjack as they would fear Satan himself, making each of them a lifetime enemy of all white people.”

FearCrimeRacismHatredOppressionSatanSouthernRapeDegradePlantationsBlackjack
Book:Jolie Blon's Bounce
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“There was a time when a new deputy tried to teach Mr. Fruit about the difference between a red and a green light, but Mr. Fruit had resisted all efforts to reorder what he had been doing perfectly well for many years. He had not only monitored the comings and goings of the town, his presence softened the ingrained evil that flourished along the invisible margins of the town’s consciousness. Any community can be judged in its humanity or corruption by how it manages to accommodate the Mr. Fruits of the world. Colleton simply adjusted itself to Mr. Fruit’s harmonies and ordinations. He did whatever he felt was needed and he did it with style. “That’s the Southern way” my grandmother said. “That’s the nice way.”

KindnessSouthernEccentricityPat Conroy
Book:The Prince of Tides
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“The Country Sonnet I stand beneath the southern sky, Looking up at the heavenly bodies. The twinkling stars know no color, Then why we mortals beneath act so puny! Country means heart, country means humility, All that is pure is born in the country. How could we poison its innocent soul, By our savage escapades of bigotry! It's high time we be the example of kindness, For the streams of Mississippi carry acceptance. Behold ye all blind with confederate pride, Conscience rises above the Blue Ridge Mountains. Let's resuscitate the country with love and passion. We'll turn this land into a cradle of amalgamation.”

KindnessAcceptanceSouthernSonnetSystemic RacismLove Thy NeighborCountry LifeConfederate FlagSouthernersCountrylife
Book:Heart Force One: Need No Gun to Defend Society
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“True, beneath the human façade, I was an interloper, an alien whose ship had crashed beyond hope of repair in the backwoods of Southern Appalachia—but at least I’d learned to walk and talk enough like the locals to be rejected as one of their own.”

CountryHomeHumorFunnyHumanityComedyIdentityHumanSouthWitRejectionSatireSouthernUfoRedneckHometownParodyAlienExtraterrestrialOutsiderBirthplaceAppalachiaEtSpaceshipBackwoodsOutcase
Book:Beginner's Luke
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“Intimidated, old traumas triggered, and fearing for my safety, I did what I felt I needed to do.”

LifeGovernmentTruthAmericaQuotesHopePoliticsGrowthHurtMemoriesJusticeHealingFamilyPowerUnited StatesGrowing UpViolenceCrimeYouthInspireAnxietyLivingSurvivalOvercomingPoliceSafetyQuoteSouthInjusticeCorruptionMemoirFighterHopefulControlSurvivorSouthernChild AbuseUnited States Of AmericaLaw EnforcementPowerlessPtsdDomestic ViolencePoliticiansSexual AbuseFamily RelationshipsRapeFamily DramaSurviveAnxiety DisordersJustice SystemViolence Against WomenArizonaSexual AssaultLawsDomestic AbuseRape CultureSexual ViolenceCrime And PunishmentPhysical AbusePanic AttacksLawmakersSurvivors Of AbuseRed TapePedophileRape SurvivorDomesticPowerful StoryHopeful HeartPanic AttackRape Of A ChildPost Traumatic StressAdvocatesRapedEnable AbuseAnxiety Attack
Book:Debbie.
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“Melanie had the face of a sheltered child who had never known anything but simplicity and kindness, truth and love, a child who had never looked upon harshness or evil and would not recognize them if she saw them. Because she had always been happy, she wanted everyone about her to be happy or, at least, pleased with themselves. To this end, she always saw the best in everyone and remarked kindly upon it. There was no servant so stupid that she did not find some redeeming trait of loyalty and kind heartedness, no girl so ugly and disagreeable that she could not discover grace of form or nobility of character in her, and no man so worthless or so boring that she did not view him in the light of his possibilities rather than his actualities. Because of these qualities that came sincerely and spontaneously from a generous heart, everyone flocked about her, for who can resist the charm of one who discovers in others admirable qualities undreamed of even by himself? She had more girl friends than anyone in town and more men friends too, though she had few beaux for she lacked the willfulness and selfishness that go far toward trapping men's hearts. What Melanie did was no more than all Southern girls were taught to do-to make those about them feel at ease and pleased with themselves. It was this happy feminine conspiracy which made Southern society so pleasant. Women knew that a land where men were contented, uncontradicted and safe in possession of unpunctured vanity was likely to be a very pleasant place for women to live. So, from the cradle to the grave, women strove to make men pleased with themselves, and the satisfied men repaid lavishly with gallantry and adoration. In fact, men willingly gave the ladies everything in the world except credit for having intelligence. Scarlett exercised the same charms as Melanie but with a studied artistry and consummate skill. The difference between the two girls lay in the fact that Melanie spoke kind and flattering words from a desire to make people happy, if only temporarily, and Scarlett never did it except to further her own aims.”

CompassionSelfishnessSouthernKindness And Selfishness
Book:Gone with the wind
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“Today I wore a pair of faded old jeans and a plain grey baggy shirt. I hadn't even taken a shower, and I did not put on an ounce of makeup. I grabbed a worn out black oversized jacket to cover myself with even though it is warm outside. I have made conscious decisions lately to look like less of what I felt a male would want to see. I want to disappear.”

LifeGovernmentTruthAmericaQuotesHopePoliticsGrowthHurtMemoriesJusticeHealingFamilyPowerUnited StatesGrowing UpViolenceCrimeYouthInspireAnxietyLivingSurvivalOvercomingPoliceSafetyQuoteSouthInjusticeCorruptionMemoirFighterHopefulControlSurvivorSouthernChild AbuseUnited States Of AmericaLaw EnforcementPowerlessPtsdDomestic ViolencePoliticiansSexual AbuseFamily RelationshipsRapeFamily DramaSurviveAnxiety DisordersJustice SystemViolence Against WomenArizonaSexual AssaultLawsDomestic AbuseRape CultureSexual ViolenceCrime And PunishmentPhysical AbusePanic AttacksLawmakersSurvivors Of AbuseRed TapePedophileRape SurvivorDomesticPowerful StoryHopeful HeartPanic AttackRape Of A ChildPost Traumatic StressAdvocatesRapedEnable AbuseAnxiety Attack
Book:Debbie.
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“He told me that if I hung up, he'd do it. He would commit suicide. He told me that if I called the cops he would kill every single one of them and I knew that he had the potential and the means to do it”

LifeGovernmentTruthAmericaQuotesHopePoliticsGrowthHurtMemoriesJusticeHealingFamilyPowerUnited StatesGrowing UpViolenceCrimeYouthInspireAnxietyLivingSurvivalOvercomingPoliceSafetyQuoteSouthInjusticeCorruptionMemoirFighterHopefulControlSurvivorSouthernChild AbuseUnited States Of AmericaLaw EnforcementPowerlessPtsdDomestic ViolencePoliticiansSexual AbuseFamily RelationshipsRapeFamily DramaSurviveAnxiety DisordersJustice SystemViolence Against WomenArizonaSexual AssaultLawsDomestic AbuseRape CultureSexual ViolenceCrime And PunishmentPhysical AbusePanic AttacksLawmakersSurvivors Of AbuseRed TapePedophileRape SurvivorDomesticPowerful StoryHopeful HeartPanic AttackRape Of A ChildPost Traumatic StressAdvocatesRapedEnable AbuseAnxiety Attack
Book:Debbie.
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“The fact that there were more adults than children at her party didn't seem to faze Dixie. "That child is like a dandelion," Lettie said. "She could grow through concrete." Dixie's birthday party had a combination Mardi Gras/funeral wake feel to it. Mr. Bennett and Digger looped and twirled pink crepe paper streamers all around the white graveside tent until it looked like a candy-cane castle. Leo Stinson scrubbed one of his ponies and gave pony rides. Red McHenry, the florist's son, made a unicorn's horn out of flower foam wrapped with gold foil, and strapped it to the horse's head. "Had no idea that horse was white," Leo said, as they stood back and admired their work. Angela, wearing an old, satin, off-the-shoulder hoop gown she'd found in the attic, greeted each guest with strings of beads, while Dixie, wearing peach-colored fairy wings, passed out velvet jester hats. Charlotte, who never quite grasped the concept of eating while sitting on the ground, had her driver bring a rocking chair from the front porch. Mr. Nalls set the chair beside Eli's statue where Charlotte barked orders like a general. "Don't put the food table under the oak tree!" she commanded, waving her arm. "We'll have acorns in the potato salad!" Lettie kept the glasses full and between KyAnn Merriweather and Dot Wyatt there was enough food to have fed Eli's entire regiment. Potato salad, coleslaw, deviled eggs, bread and butter pickles, green beans, fried corn, spiced pears, apple dumplings, and one of every animal species, pork barbecue, fried chicken, beef ribs, and cold country ham as far as the eye could see.”

FoodSouthernBirthday PartyDecorationsBellesDixie BelleAngela BelleCharlotte Belle
Book:The Rock Orchard
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“As she began "Dear..." she thought again that it did not matter which of the lot she addressed the letter to, for they presented to her the impermeable front of what she called "the family attitude" – suspicion of the worst based on insufficient knowledge of her life, and moral disapproval based firmly on their general knowledge of the weakness of human nature. Jenny couldn't possibly be up to any good, or she would have stayed at home, where she belonged. That is the sum of it, thought Jenny, and wouldn't their blood run cold if they could only know the facts? Ah well, the family can get under your skin with little needles and scalpels if you venture too near them: they attach suckers to you and draw your blood from every pore if you don't watch out. But that didn't keep you from loving them, nor them from loving you, with that strange longing, demanding, hopeless tenderness and bitterness, wound into each other in a net of living nerves.”

LoveFamilyMoralityBitternessSouthernDisapproval
Book:Ship of Fools
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“She went to the window. A fine sheen of sugary frost covered everything in sight, and white smoke rose from chimneys in the valley below the resort town. The window opened to a rush of sharp early November air that would have the town in a flurry of activity, anticipating the tourists the colder weather always brought to the high mountains of North Carolina. She stuck her head out and took a deep breath. If she could eat the cold air, she would. She thought cold snaps were like cookies, like gingersnaps. In her mind they were made with white chocolate chunks and had a cool, brittle vanilla frosting. They melted like snow in her mouth, turning creamy and warm.”

MagicWinterSnowSouthernCookiesNorth CarolinaThe South
Book:The Sugar Queen
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“Kay yawned and rested her forehead against the windowpane, her fingers idly strumming the guitar: the strings sang a hollow, lulling tune, as monotonously soothing as the Southern landscape, smudged in darkness, flowing past the window. An icy winter moon rolled above the train across the night sky like a thin white wheel.”

AmericaMetaphorSouthernIndolent
Book:The Grass Harp, Including A Tree of Night and Other Stories
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“Every town has ‘THAT house’: the one that once held dark secrets. You know the house… the one no one will purchase? The one whose walls have seen blood? The one that even birds avoid, and the darkened windows resemble empty eye sockets? There are furtive, yet insistent, whispers about ‘that’ house, murmurs that perhaps the house is best left alone, lest the dark stain left upon that abode’s history seep into our own present-day.”

GhostParanormalSouthernGhostsNew OrleansHauntingHauntedSouthern WritersFrench QuarterNola
Book:The Haunted History of New Orleans: Ghosts of the French Quarter
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“A barbeque in Jasper County does not mean hamburgers and chicken breasts on a fancy gas grill. Yankees call anything you cook outside "barbeque." The word 'barbeque' in Ray's neck of the woods is a 'noun,' not a verb, and it means a whole hog tied to a spit with chicken wire and rope and roasted in an outdoor oven, usually in someone's backyard or some parking lot. And the fixin's that must accompany it are baked beans, collard greens, white rolls, cole slaw, and rice topped with a sweet gravy made from the drippings and other unmentionables that the packs call hash. Jasper folks sort of take the "don't ask, don't tell" approach with the hash. 'We don't want to know what's in it,' Ray thinks, 'but it sure tastes good.”

SouthernBarbecueHashCookout
Book:The Wedding Machine
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“I grin. “It’s just a party,” I assure her. “Nothin’ big.” “There ain’t nothin’ that happens on this ranch that’s organized by your mama that ain’t big. That woman’s about as subtle as a shotgun.” “A shotgun can be subtle if it ain’t bein’ fired,” I point out. She narrows her eyes. I think she’s about to quip back with something super sassy, but then a smile wrinkles up her face. “You sayin’ I’m better off to keep the shotgun from firin’?” “I’m sayin’ quit playin’ with the trigger, Grandma.”

GrandmotherSouthernEuphemismCountry LifeSassy DialogueShotgun
Book:Football Sundae
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“She wrote the names of the day's cakes on the board: traditional Southern red velvet cake and peach pound cake, but also green tea and honey macaroons and cranberry doughnuts. She knew the more unusual things would sell out first. It had taken nearly a year, but she'd won over her regulars with her skill with what they already knew, so now they would try anything she made.”

SouthernSavvyDessertsBakerJulia Winterson
Book:The Girl Who Chased the Moon
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“My career still strikes me as miraculous. That a boy raised on Marine bases in the South, taught by Roman Catholic nuns in backwater Southern towns that loathed Catholics, and completed his education with an immersion into The Citadel—the whole story sounds fabricated, impossible even to me. Maybe especially to me.”

GratitudeSouthernMarinesPat ConroyCitadel
Book:A Lowcountry Heart: Reflections on a Writing Life
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“Finally, we entered Chetaube County, my imaginary birthplace, where the names of the little winding roads and minuscule mountain communities never failed to inspire me: Yardscrabble, Big Log, Upper, Middle and Lower Pigsty, Chicken Scratch, Cooterville, Felchville, Dust Rag, Dough Bag, Uranus Ridge, Big Bottom, Hooter Holler, Quickskillet, Buck Wallow, Possum Strut ... We always say a picture speaks a thousand words, but isn’t the opposite equally true?”

CountryHumorFunnyImaginationComedyRootsSouthWordsSouthernHeritageImaginaryInheritanceRedneckRoadAdageSayingTruismPictureRedneck HumorBeatBirthplaceAppalachiaRuralWhite TrashDeep SouthBackwoodsImaginalRoad NovelReceived Wisdom
Book:Beginner's Luke
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“These women, so swift to kindness, so tender to the sorrowing, so untiring in times of stress, could be as implacable as furies to any renegade who broke one small law of their unwritten code. This code was simple. Reverence for the Confederacy, honor to the veterans, loyalty to old forms, pride in poverty, open hands to friends and undying hatred to Yankees. Between them, Scarlett and Rhett had outraged every tenet of this code.”

SouthernConfederacy
Book:Gone with the wind
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“It wasn’t really a loud-mouthed, hyperactive little pig-tailed blonde that made Carl cringe. It was what I represented. While his upbringing was battered humiliation, I was spoiled, doted on, and spoon-fed by the world. I don’t think he was even aware of his intentions to reduce that child to his own state of self-loathing, but he was truly brilliant at it.”

IssuesFeminismFeministMemoirSouthernDaddyAbusiveJustNumberAnotherCarl
Book:Just Another Number
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“Many people, after spending a long weekend being stealthily seduced by this grand dame of the South, mistakenly think that they have gotten to know her: they believe (in error) that after a long stroll amongst the rustling palmettoes and gas lamps, a couple of sumptuous meals, and a tour or two, that they have discovered everything there is to know about this seemingly genteel, elegant city. But like any great seductress, Charleston presents a careful veneer of half-truths and outright fabrications, and it lets you, the intended conquest, fill in many of the blanks. Seduction, after all, is not true love, nor is it a gentle act. She whispers stories spun from sugar about pirates and patriots and rebels, about plantations and traditions and manners and yes, even ghosts; but the entire time she is guarded about the real story. Few tourists ever hear the truth, because at the dark heart of Charleston is a winding tale of violence, tragedy and, most of all, sin.”

GhostParanormalSouthernGhostsHauntedSouth CarolinaCharlestonSouthern Writers
Book:Charleston's Ghosts: Hauntings in the Holy City
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