"Their Eyes Were Watching God" by Zora Neale Hurston, Chapters 1–3

For others they sail forever on the horizon, never out of sight, never landing until the Watcher turns his eyes away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by Time.

An envious heart makes a treacherous ear.

She was stretched on her back beneath the pear tree soaking in the alto chant of the visiting bees, the gold of the sun and the panting breath of the breeze when the inaudible voice of it all came to her.

Then Janie felt a pain remorseless sweet that left her limp and languid.

In her former blindness she had known him as shiftless Johnny Taylor, tall and lean.

The old woman’s voice was so lacking in command and reproof, so full of crumbling dissolution,—that Janie half believed that Nanny had not seen her.

The vision of Logan Killicks was desecrating the pear tree, but Janie didn’t know how to tell Nanny that.

With her hand uplifted for the second blow she saw the huge tear that welled up from Janie’s heart and stood in each eye. She saw the terrible agony and the lips tightened down to hold back the cry and desisted.

Freedom found me wid a baby daughter in mah arms, so Ah said Ah’d take a broom and a cook-pot and throw up a highway through de wilderness for her. She would expound what Ah felt.

She was back and forth to the pear tree continuously wondering and thinking. Finally out of Nanny’s talk and her own conjectures she made a sort of comfort for herself.

No’m, he ain’t even talked ’bout hittin’ me. He says he never mean to lay de weight uh his hand on me in malice.

Nanny sent Janie along with a stern mien, but she dwindled all the rest of the day as she worked.