Janie looked down on him and felt a self-crushing love. So her soul crawled out from its hiding place. - Zora Neale Hurston

So her soul crawled out from its hiding place.

"I did not know then, as I know now, that people are prone to build a statue of the kind of person it pleases them to be. And few people want to be forced to ask themselves, "What is there is no me like my statue?" The thing to do is to grab the broom of anger and drive off the beast of fear."

She had an inside and an outside now and suddenly she knew how not to mix them.

But the inescapable fact that stuck in my craw, was: my people had sold me and the white people had bought me. . . . It impressed upon me the universal nature of greed and glory. — Zora Neale Hurston, Dust Tracks on a Road