“A man who does not lick his lips, can he blame the harmattan for drying them?”

A goat does not eat into a hen’s stomach no matter how friendly the two may be.

The sun will shine on those who stand before it shines on those who kneel under them.

The world is large,” said Okonkwo. “I have even heard that in some tribes a man’s children belong to his wife and her family.” “That cannot be,” said Machi. “You might as well say that the woman lies on top of the man when they are making the babies.

It is praiseworthy to be brave and fearless, but sometimes it is better to be a coward. We often stand in the compound of a coward to point at the ruins where a brave man used to live.

When we are comfortable and inattentive, we run the risk of committing grave injustices absentmindedly.

Become familiar with your home, but know also about your neighbors. The young man who never went anywhere thinks his mother is the greatest cook.

The only thing we have learnt from experience is that we learn nothing from experience.

Storytellers are a threat. They threaten all champions of control, they frighten usurpers of the right-to-freedom of the human spirit — in state, in church or mosque, in party congress, in the university or wherever.

The lizard that jumped from a high Iroko tree to the ground said he would praise himself if no-one else did.

If I hold her hand she says, ‘Don’t touch!’ If I hold her foot she says ‘Don’t touch!’ But when I hold her waist-beads she pretends not to know.

People create stories create people; or rather stories create people create stories.

I think not just Nigeria but I think the whole of Africa has to turn back to the rural areas and that’s where the majority of the citizens are and that’s where the engine of of development has to be found.

Nobody can teach me who I am. You can describe parts of me, but who I am – and what I need – is something I have to find out myself.

We cannot trample upon the humanity of others without devaluing our own.

When a man is at peace with his gods and ancestors, his harvest will be good or bad according to the strength of his arm.

Art is man’s constant effort to create for himself a different order of reality from that which is given to him.

Happiness is a very pretty thing to feel, but very dry to talk about.

My wells have run dry, but not because i miss you any less, I finally accept that this is life.

Pain shapes us into writers, it cuts our veins open like a sharp knife. But while we are about to bleed dry, we turn our blood into ink.

Can’t find my soul in my eyes Must’ve been drowned out by night cries.

My tears have dried and I know that no weapon formed against me will prosper.

Sooner or later. Late or early. Tears dry. Wounds heal.

When the heart is dry the eye is dry.

You don’t miss the water ‘til the well runs dry.