žIf one is lucky, a solitary fantasy can totally transform one million realities.
How important it is for us to recognize and celebrate our heroes and she-roes!
When it looked like the sun wasn't going to shine any more, there's a rainbow in the clouds,
I am overwhelmed by the grace and persistence of my people.
As far as I knew white women were never lonely, except in books. White men adored them, Black men desired them and Black women worked for them.
You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I'll rise.
You don't have to think about doing the right thing. If you're for the right thing, then you do it without thinking.
Though we are many, each of us is achingly alone, piercingly alone. Only when we confess our confusion can we remember that he was a gift to us and we did have him. He came to us from the creator, trailing creativity in abundance. Despite the anguish, his life was sheathed in mother love, family love, and survived and did more than that. He thrived with passion and compassion, humor and style. We had him whether we know who he was or did not know, he was ours and we were his.
When we come to it We, this people, on this wayward, floating body Created on this earth, of this earth Have the power to fashion for this earth A climate where every man and every woman Can live freely without sanctimonious piety And without crippling fear When we come to it We must confess that we are the possible We are the miraculous, the true wonders of this world That is when, and only when We come to it.
It is possible and imperative that we discover A brave and startling truth.
Love costs all we are and will ever be. Yet it is only love which sets us free. A Brave and Startling Truth.
We, unaccustomed to courage exiles from delight live coiled in shells of loneliness until love leaves its high holy temple and comes into our sight to liberate us into life.
I have need of a friend. There is one and only one who will give the air from his failing lungs for my body's mend. And that one is my love.
Visit us again, Savior. Your children, burdened with disbelief, blinded by a patina of wisdom, carom down this vale of fear. We cry for you although we have lost your name.
Petulant priests, greedy centurions, and one million incensed gestures stand between your love and me.