“My son even if you want to fall, at least fall where your bones can be gathered.”

No matter how prosperous a man was, if he was unable to rule his women and his children (and especially his women) he was not really a man.

We cannot trample upon the humanity of others without devaluing our own. The Igbo, always practical, put it concretely in their proverb Onye ji onye n’ani ji onwe ya: ‘He who will hold another down in the mud must stay in the mud to keep him down.’

If one finger brings oil it soils the others.

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

Privilege, you see, is one of the great adversaries of the imagination; it spreads a thick layer of adipose tissue over our sensitivity.

When old people speak it is not because of the sweetness of words in our mouths; it is because we see something which you do not see.

If you only hear one side of the story, you have no understanding at all.

Now one of the changes that must come to Africa is the idea of limited rule, I mean in term of how long one leader can stay in power. The era of president for life is not gone yet but it is on its way out and that is one of the problems with Mugabe and others.

An angry man is always a stupid man.

There is a moral obligation, I think, not to ally oneself with power against the powerless.

Once you allow yourself to identify with the people in a story, then you might begin to see yourself in that story even if on the surface it’s far removed from your situation.

When an old man dies, a library burns to the ground.

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.

How we dwelt in two worlds the daughters and the mothers in the kingdom of the sons.

When she pronounces the words: ‘Be it done to me according to thy word’, the Mother conceives the mystery from the Trinity, in order to give it to the Son.

When the Son on the Cross promises paradise in his company to the good thief, when he promises the future feast in Heaven to the Apostles, when he speaks of the kingdom of the Father, he is always pointing toward eternity.

Her [Mary’s] motherhood extends beyond view. In the will of the Son, she becomes at once mother and maid: sheltering him, but sheltered in him, forming him, but formed by him …

Much male fear of feminism is infantilism–the longing to remain the mother’s son, to possess a woman who exists purely for him.

Much male fear of feminism is the fear that, in becoming whole human beings, women will cease to mother men, to provide the breast, the lullaby, the continuous attention associated by the infant with the mother.

A huge breast, an avid cave; between her legs snakes, swamp-grass, or teeth; on her lap a helpless infant or a martyred son. She exists for one purpose: to bear and nourish the son.

I love my son. I love my kids, my family. Like I said after I took the misdemeanor plea.