“She was a restless soul, born with black wings and gypsy heart.”

Words alone mean little. Show me your eyes; that’s where I’ll decipher your truth from your lies.

Undress my soul one petal at a time.

She can be dainty and still have claws. She can be sweet and still make fire. That’s her magic.

I think my soul was born with wings; it’s always restless, it won’t sit still.

When I told you to ruin me I wasn’t referring to my heart.

My soul is wild but my heart is loyal and true.

Some people help you see the world differently, those are my kind of people.

I have no room for monsters and cowards claiming to be something they’re not, who lie to get what they want.

Don’t want a complicated love. Just want you to grab my demons, kiss my madness and run away with me.

She’s a galaxy of dazzling hues and her heart contains a universe of love. She is starlight.

Genuine soul connections are the real aphrodisiacs.

Oh come all ve misfits, you belong in my fun freak world.

From the ashes I rise, I am blooming into something radiant.

Spending time under the stars is never a waste of time.

She has one hell of a dark soul, but damn, it’s so full of light.

I have no room for monsters and cowards claiming to be something they’re not, who lie to get what they want.

Some girls like to say one thing and mean another. And me being who I am, I’m very straightforward. Everything is very black and white for me. I don’t really like playing mind games.

The mere physical man is like the ant crawling on the paper, who observes black lettering and attributes its production to the pen and nothing more.

At 50, I thought proudly: Here we are, half century! Being 60 was fairly frightening. You want to know how I spent my 70th birthday? I put on a completely black face, a fuzzy black Afro wig, wore black clothes and hung a black wreath on my door.

I was the first black child to desegregate the all-white William Frantz Elementary School in Louisiana in 1960.

I had to confront my fears and master my every demonic thought about inferiority, insecurity, or the fear of being black, young, and gifted in this Western culture.

Think black love, think universal love. Just think love.

The crow wished everything was black, the Owl, that everything was white.

Our elders said back then that if Black folks really wanted to see Change, they had to step up to the plate and do it themselves. Somebody has to be First. Will that be you?