Quotes from Eric Jerome Dickey

I heard you on the phone with her. I happened to be in your arms, and you happened to be inside of me, balls deep from what I remember, so I felt the difference, felt what you felt for her, heard how your voice changed when you talked to her.

She was exposed now. It wasn't the undressing that made her naked. It had been the tears.

A woman can plan. A woman thinks she needs a man for nothing in this world but soon realizes she is wrong. The same way every black- owned business has to acquire goods from a white distributor, women have to do business with men, be it professional or personal, to achieve too many of our goals.

Kindness never won a war. The kind filled many graves.

We'd had sex like we were whores to each other, and when it was done, we each moved to our side of the bed, boxers going to their corners, then when it was time the imaginary bell rang and we went at it again.

If I carried Catherine to the top of Mount Corcovado and placed her before the statue of Christ the Redeemer, Jesus would close his eyes and turn his back on her. If she touched his feet, the six million stone tiles that covered the religious figure would catch fire and fall like fiery rain

DNA predisposes a certain behavior, but if your environment doesn't support it, then that behavior won't manifest. When people don't have opportunity, they have to create their own opportunities

All I wanted was you. I tore down my wall for you. Now it's been rebuilt.

When a man really loves a woman, her secrets don't matter. He knows she's a liar and lives with it. His choice. In his silence he was the protector of her secrets. He maintained her lie out of loyalty, did that to prove his love. Loved her. Pi Suleman

He carried me, my legs wrapped around him, and moved in and out of me, stroked me as he walked around the room.

His rod, his staff, it comforted me.

The weight of love. For some a feather. Pi Suleman

Y'all going to hell in gasoline thongs.

I felt it coming and it felt so good, the hollowness inside my belly, a rising savageness, a sensation of hunger that I wanted to run from, yet embrace; control, yet submit to; and all I could do was squirm.

Falling in love is easy. Being in love sucks.

The black man has been manipulated by the offspring of the evil bastards who kidnapped and enslaved his forefathers. A black man using the white man's Bible is the best example of Stockholm syndrome to date. If blacks are in a white man's heaven, they are janitors and maids.

I opened my purse, shifted through panty shields, bills, and birth control pills—I call them poppa-stoppas—and took out my menstrual calendar.

Women ignore history. Always think it will be different for them.

I let my towel drop to the carpet. Nakedness stared at nakedness, and nakedness smiled.

Can I buy you a drink when you get off? I don't drink. Alcohol is bad for my legs. Do they swell? No, they spread.

Everyone is in an individual relationship, but perceives it as group effort. My relationship with you is not the same as your relationship with me. The eyes can never see their own face.

I had on . . . black jeggings under a fitted, sleeveless, flowered dress, so he could see my true shape as well as my eclectic style, which gave the middle finger to the coldness of winter.

They . . . had been slugging it out like Rihanna and Chris Brown on repeat . . .

Your hair--it's kind of wavy. Indian in your blood, or are you a hypocrite and texturize your hair? He hesitated, appeared uneasy, then said, My mother is black and my father is white. Your a brown-skinned Drake and didn't vote for your cousin Obama?