Pecola Breedlove Quotes

This soil is bad for certain kinds of flowers. Certain seeds it will not nurture, certain fruit it will not bear, and when the land kills of its own volition, we acquiesce and say the victim had no right to live. We are wrong, of course, but it doesn't matter. It's too late. At least on the edge of my town, among the garbage and the sunflowers of my town, it's much, much, much too late.

nothing remains but Pecola and the unyielding earth. Cholly Breedlove is dead; our innocence too. The seeds shriveled and died; her baby too. There is really nothing more to say—except why. But since why is difficult to handle, one must take refuge in how.

It had occurred to Pecola some time ago that if her eyes, those eyes that held the pictures, and knew the sights-- if those eyes of hers were different, that is to say, beautiful, she herself would be different. Her teeth were good, and at least her nose was not big and flat like some of those who were thought so cute. If she looked different, beautiful, maybe Cholly would be different, and Mrs. Breedlove too. Maybe they'd say, 'Why, look at pretty-eyed Pecola. We mustn't do bad things in front of those pretty eyes.

It had occurred to Pecola some time ago that if her eyes, those eyes that held the pictures, and knew the sights—if those eyes of hers were different, that is to say, beautiful, she herself would be different. If she looked different, beautiful, maybe Cholly would be different, and Mrs. Breedlove too. Maybe they’d say, “Why, look at pretty-eyed Pecola. We mustn’t do bad things in front of those pretty eyes.

Thrown, in this way, into the binding conviction that only a miracle could save her, she would never know her beauty. She would see only what there was to see: the eyes of other people.

Pecola pensó en Dewey Prince y en cómo había amado a Miss Marie. ¿A qué se parecería la sensación de amar?, se preguntó. ¿Cómo actuaban dos adultos que se amaban uno a otro? ¿Comían pescado juntos? Acudió a su mente la imagen de Cholly y la señora Breedlove en la cama. Él hacía ruidos como si le doliese algo, como si algo le tuviese asido por la garganta y no quisiera soltarle. Por terribles que fueran sus ruidos, sin embargo, no eran ni de lejos tan malos como el silencio total de su madre. Se habría dicho que ella ni siquiera estaba allí. Quizá aquello era el amor. Ruidos estrangulados y silencio.