All the tightness that had been in my body, making my motions jerky, keeping my muscles taut, left me and I felt relaxed, confident, strong. I felt just like I thought a white boy oughta feel; I had never felt so strong in all my life. (45)

I killed Amy Stanton on Saturday night on the fifth of April, 1952, at a few minutes before nine o’clock. […]

She smiled and came towards me with her arms held out. ‘I won't darling. I won't ever say anything like that again. But I want to tell you how much –’

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘You want to pour your heart out to me.’

And I hit her in the guts as hard as I could.

My fist went back against her spine, and the flesh closed around it to the wrist. I jerked back on it, I had to jerk, and she flopped forward from the waist, like she was hinged. (152, 164–5)

Their love-making is fantastic for a time:

He must subdue her, absorb her, rip her apart and consume her. […]

I’ll take you apart, I’ll eat you, oh, I’ll make you mine, I’ll make you mine, you bitch. (419)

I caught on fast, with the lessons she gimme [the corporal said]. These babes know something … She taught me to kiss slow, to take my time. I useta close my eyes an just jab, hoping for the best … Rosetta kisses sleepy like. Sometimes she puts her tongue in my ear. Or just brushes her lips along my throat. Gee … (305)

I was not suggesting for a moment that you jeopardize, even for a moment, that […] immaculate manhood. (33)

But I’d plug him anyway. Six shots right through his fat, hairy belly. […] Then I’d […] call up Jane and have her come over and bandage up my guts. I pictured her holding a cigarette for me to smoke while I was bleeding and all.