“I’ll remember you. When I’ve forgotten all the rest.You to me were true. You to me were the best.”

He not busy being born is busy dying.

You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.

The purpose of art is to stop time.

Let me ask you one question Is your money that good Will it buy you forgiveness Do you think that it could I think you will find When your death takes its toll All the money you made Will never buy back your soul

There are things I could say. But I don’t.

When you feel in your gut what you are and then dynamically pursue it – don’t back down and don’t give up – then you’re going to mystify a lot of folks.

May you grow up to be righteous, may you grow up to be true. May you always know the truth and see the lights surrounding you. May you always be courageous, stand upright and be strong. May you stay forever young.

People have a hard time accepting anything that overwhelms them.

There is nothing so stable as change.

I really didn’t consider myself happy or unhappy.

Here’s the thing with me and the religious thing. This is the flat-out truth: I find the religiosity and philosophy in the music. I don’t find it anywhere else.

Being noticed can be a burden. Jesus got himself crucified because he got himself noticed. So I disappear a lot.

Never make it perfect.

You’ll never be greater than yourself.

Don’t matter how much money you got, there’s only two kinds of people: there’s saved people and there’s lost people.

If I lived my life by what others were thinkin’, the heart inside me would’ve died.

The defects of human nature afford us opportunities of exercising our philosophy, the best employment of our virtues. If all men were righteous, all hearts true and frank and loyal, what use would our virtues be?

A wise man is superior to any insults which can be put upon him, and the best reply to unseemly behavior is patience and moderation.

Progress, of the best kind, is comparatively slow.

Silence in times of suffering is the best.

Unhappiness is best defined as the difference between our talents and our expectations.

Come, my best Friends! my Books! and lead me on.

Welcome, thou kind deceiver! Thou best of thieves; who, with an easy key, Dost open life, and, unperceived by us, Even steal us from ourselves.

The best of humanity’s recorded history is a creative balance between horrors endured and victories achieved, and so it was during the Harlem Renaissance.