Цитаты из книг автора «Кэтрин Стокетт»

She got a permanent and she smell like pneumonia.

I would never in a million years tell her it was Aibileen.

I bet the poor white trash girls in South Jackson read it like the King James

her red sweater down over the pudgy roll in her waist.

Even though every cell in my brain says do not

feeling like a dartboard, a big red bull’s-eye that Mother pinged darts at.

I saw a deep, bleak sadness there, inside of her.

If chocolate was a sound, it would’ve been Constantine’s voice singing. If singing was a color, it would’ve been the color of that chocolate.

Constantine, used to stare those forward-sloping stairs down every day, like it was a battle between them.

That was the only part I didn’t like about having the top floor of the house, that it separated me from my Constantine.