“Old witch, fell in a ditch, picked up a penny and thought she was rich!”
¨Yall git some stones,¨ commanded Joey now, and was met with instant giggling obedience as everyone except me began to gather pebbles from the dusty ground. ¨Come on, Lizabeth.¨ I cursed and spat on the ground-my favorite gesture of a phony bravado. ¨Ya'll children get the stones; I'll show you how to use em.¨Then I lost my head entirely, mad with the power of inciting such rage, and ran out of the bushes in the storm of pebbles, straight toward Miss Lottie."
¨Twenty-two years, Maybelle, twenty-two years, he was saying, and I got nothing for you, nothing, nothing." And suddenly he sobbed, loudl and painfully, and cried helplessly and hopelessly in the dark night. I did not know men ever cried. Long after the sobbing and the humming had stopped, I lay on the palette, still as stone with my hands over my ears, wishing that I too could cry and be comforted."
¨I leaped furiously into the mounds of marigolds and pulled madly, trampling and pulling and destroying the perfect yellow blooms. The fresh smell of early morning and of dew-soaked marigolds spurred me on as I went tearing and mangling and sobbing while Joey tugged my dress or my waist crying. And that was the moment when childhood faded and women hood began. That violent, crazy act was the last act of childhood."