Oh... Sofia home, now. Sofia home. Things is gonna be changin' around here. Pass me them peas, boy.
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Old Mister She black as tar, nappy-headed, got legs like baseball bats, and I hear she got that nasty women's disease.
Old Mister Boy, you goin' let this ol' nappy-headed girl cuss you out like that? You sittin' at the head of your own dinner table and actin' like a waiter.
Old Mister Celie, you has my sympathy. Ain't many women allow they husband's ho to lay up in they house.
The Color Purple
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