Darlene tryin to teach me how to talk. . . . Every time I say something the way I say it, she correct me until I say it some other way. Pretty soon it feel like I can't think. My mind run up on a thought, git confuse, run back and sort of lay down. You sure this worth it? I ast. She say, yeah, bring me a bunch of books. Whitefolks all over them, talking bout apples and dogs. What I care bout dogs I think. ... But I let Darlene worry on. Sometimes I think bout the apples and the dogs, sometimes I don't. Look like to me only a fool would want you to talk in a way that feel peculiar to your mind. (The Color Purple 222-23)

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