Wide Sargasso Sea
I never looked at any strange negro. They hated us. They called us white cockroaches. Let sleeping dogs lie. One day a little girl followed me singing, "Go away white cockroach, go away, go away." (I.1.3.2)
Then Tia would light a fire (fires always lit for her, sharp stones did not hurt her bare feet, I never saw her cry). (I.1.3.3)
"They invent stories about you, and lies about me. They try to find out what we eat every day."
"They are curious. It's natural enough. You have lived alone far too long, Annette. You imagine enmity which doesn't exist. Always one extreme or the other. Didn't you fly at me like a little wild cat when I said nigger. Not nigger, nor even negro. Black people I must say."
"You don't like, or even recognize the good in them," she said, "and you won't believe in the other side."
"They're too damn lazy to be dangerous," said Mr. Mason. "I know that."
"They are more alive than you are, lazy or not, and they can be dangerous and cruel for reasons you wouldn't understand." (I.1.6.9-12)