“O, let my land be a land where Liberty Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath, But opportunity is real, and life is free, Equality is in the air we breathe.”

Books -where if people suffered, they suffered in beautiful language, not in monosyllables.

I look at my own body With eyes no longer blind- And I see that my own hands can make The world that’s in my mind.

Looks like what drives me crazy Don’t have no effect on you– But I’m gonna keep on at it Till it drives you crazy, too.

LIBERTY! FREEDOM! DEMOCRACY! True anyhow no matter how many Liars use those words.

Go home and write / a page tonight. / And let that page come out of you – / Then, it will be true.

To create a market for your writing you have to be consistent, professional, a continuing writer – not just a one-article or a one-story or a one-book man.

Reach Up Your Hand… and take a star.

Life is for the living. Death is for the dead. Let life be like music. And death a note unsaid.

Both of them were very good and kind – the one who went to church and the one who didn’t. And no doubt from them I learned to like both Christians and sinners equally well.

We build our temples for tomorrow, strong as we know how, and we stand on top of the mountain, free within ourselves.

Let America be America, where equality is in the air we breathe.

The first of the month falls every month, too, North or South. And them white folks who sends bills never forgets to send them-the phone bill, the furniture bill, the water bill, the gas bill, insurance, house rent.

Most musicians remain poor. But the music that they make, even if it does not bring them millions, gives millions of people happiness.

The rhythm of life is a jazz rhythm

What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or does it explode?

A dream deferred is a dream denied.

We have our thoughts, our hopes, our fears, and yet we know that in a moment a change may come over any one of us that will convert a living, breathing human being into a mass of lifeless clay.

Imagine what I would have done with my fire-breathing fists.

When I went to jail, reality hit so hard that it took my breath away, took my stance away, took my strength away. I was there buck naked, humiliated, sitting in my own crap and urine – this is a metaphor. My ego had run off. Your ego is the biggest coward.

You can make my chest swell with joy and cave with pain but peace is something I taught myself. Chest swelling chest caving with each new breath of fresh air.

Breathing dreams like air.

When anger rises up I let it breathe. A fire burns out, eventually.

Entangle me, into your talkative eyes. Let me breathe in, your breath often. For I’m tired of floating, in the shallow waters, when I want to get choked.

I would die for you it’s true if I could only learn how to breathe around you.