The words were unexpected, but so incisively true. So much of prayer is like that - an encounter with a truth that has sunk to the bottom of the heart, that wants to be found, wants to be spoken, wants to be elevated into the realm of sacredness.

— Sue Monk Kidd

... The world was really one bee yard, and the same rules work fine in both places. Don't be afraid, as no life-loving bee wants to sting you. Still, don't be an idiot; wear long sleeves and pants. Don't swat. Don't even think about swatting. If you feel angry, whistle. Anger agitates while whistling melts a bee's temper. Act like you know what you're doing, even if you don't. Above all, send the bees love. Every little thing wants to be loved.

— Sue Monk Kidd

The world will give you that once in a while, a brief timeout; the boxing bell rings, and you go to your corner, where somebody dabs mercy on your beat-up life.

— Sue Monk Kidd

This surprised me because it made me realize that what I sought was not outside myself. It was within me, already there, waiting. Awakening was really the act of remembering myself, remembering this deep Feminine Source.

— Sue Monk Kidd

To condemn slavery was one thing—that I could do in my own individual heart—but female ministers!

— Sue Monk Kidd

Until we look from the bottom up we have nothing.

— Sue Monk Kidd

Up until then I'd thought that white people and colored people getting alone was the big aim, but after that I decided everybody being colorless together was a better plan.

— Sue Monk Kidd

Up until then I'd thought that white people and colored people getting along was the big aim, but after that I decided everybody being colorless together was a better plan. I thought of that policeman, Eddie Hazel wurst, saying I'd lowered myself to be in this house of colored women, and for the very life of me I couldn't understand how it had turned out this way, how colored women had become the lowest ones on the totem pole. You only had to look at them to see how special they were, like hidden royalty among us. Eddie Hazel wurst. What a shit bucket.

— Sue Monk Kidd

We are so limited, you have to use the same word for loving Rosalie as you do for loving Coke with peanuts. Isn't that a shame we don't have many more ways to say it?

— Sue Monk Kidd

We have to learn not to feel guilty about letting our imagination browse around, and you know, in writing fiction particularly. But I think, in any kind of writing, we have to learn to allow ourselves to approach it in a contemplative way.

— Sue Monk Kidd