Bessie Emery Head Quotes

You have a beautiful soul that was nurtured on a dung heap.

Love is so powerful, it's like unseen flowers under your feet as you walk.

She was hardly conscious of her agonised cry as his hard kisses ravaged her mouth. For her it was like a dissolution of body and bones; with only a heart left; a pulsing heart awash in an ocean of rushing tornadic darkness; helpless at its own forward rushing...

People could do without religions and Gods who died for the sins of the world and thereby left men without any feeling of self-responsibility for the crimes they committed. ... It meant that a white man could forever go on slaughtering black men simply because Jesus Christ would save him from his sins. Africa could do without a religion a like that.

Why should men be brought up with a false sense of superiority over women? People can respect me if they wish, but only if I earn it.

Above all the necessities of life, human beings need love and it is often the one thing most denied to them.

'God isn't a magical formula for me,' ... 'God isn't a switched-on, mysterious, unknown current. I can turn to and, by doing so, feel secure in my own nobility.

You know, comrades,” he said, “I’ve got Hannetjie. I’ll betray him tomorrow.”

he said, “I don’t take orders from a kaffir. I don’t know what kind of kaffir you tink you are. Why don’t you say Baas. I’m your Baas. Why don’t you say Baas, hey?” Brille blinked his eyes rapidly but by contrast his voice was strangely calm.“I’m twenty years older than you,” he said. It was the first thing that came to mind, but the comrades seemed to think it a huge joke. A titter swept up the line. The next thing Warder Hannetjie whipped out a knobkerrie and gave Brille several blows about the head.

Being an African man he ought to have known that nothing happened on the continent of Africa without all Africans getting to know of it.

A woman is a maker of pottery, feeling life with her hands, keeping it whole, moulding it from the depths upwards. Her vision is constant, unchanging. [Where is the Hour of the Beautiful Dancing of Birds in the Sun-wind?,

Even the trees were dying, from roots upwards,' he said. 'Does everything die like this?'
'No,' she said. 'You may see no rivers on the ground but we keep the rivers inside us. That is why all good things and all good people are called rain. Sometimes we see the rain clouds gather even though not a cloud appears in the sky. It is all in our heart.'

It is when you cry, in the blackest hour of despair, that you stumble on a source of goodness.”

They pursued their love with a wild abandon, unprotected against the treachery of the insecure foundation on which it was based and too young to bridge the gap that would suddenly and unexpectedly fling them miles apart.

Who is the greater man - the man who cries, broken by anguish, or his scoffing, mocking, jeering oppressor?