“It can be beautiful, if you just be yourself.”

I don’t need no peace. I need equal rights and justice.

Music is a science, it heals depression.

I don’t owe no one no obligation, and no one owe me none so every ‘ting is fine.

To have the truth in your possession you can be found guilty, sentenced to death.

What the Rastaman represents is positivity.

I am good. I live good. I think good. I don’t have to feel good to be good, I take my goodness wherever I go.

I’m on my way to happiness, where I can find some peace and rest.

Reggae must be lived, not played. It is a lifebeat everytime.

It is only the truth that can make a man free, it is only the truth that can make a man live.

I am not a politician. I only suffer the consequences.

My songs is hard stuff which politicians don’t want on them radio station because they still want people to live in ignorancy.

I mean the flesh, never fade! The flesh never leave the creation, see, because with that divine spirit the flesh cannot fade. If the spirit is weak then the flesh fade, seen?

My earthly parents don’t know my potential or my divine qualities. They weren’t taught how to diagnose or be aware of such things.

Me is what them call illegitimate, that mean say me is a criminal, bomba rassclaat! That’s why me go write a song called ‘Illegitimate Children.’ It took me years to find out I was one.

People go to school and get educated, but most people who go to school and become a graduate in eduation still don’t know what the word ‘education’ means. ‘Educo’ means to bring out.

I was taught that Jesus the Son of God was a white man, and hearing black people singing, ‘Lord, wash me, and I will be whiter than snow,’ made me sick.

Self love is not only loving the parts of yourself you deem beautiful, but also the parts you’d rather hide away knowing they are all deserving.

There is no greater feeling than when a groom turns to see his bride and has tears in his eyes because she is so beautiful.

You are the most beautiful thing in my world.

Wilderness is harder and harder to find these days on this beautiful planet, and we’re abusing our planet to the point of almost no return.

I love her beauty, but I fear her mind.

It seems to me a cruelty beauty and tragedies are lovers.

Forbearance in the face of fate, beauty constant under torture, are not merely passive. They are a positive achievement, an explicit triumph.

Solitude gives birth to the original in us, to beauty unfamiliar and perilous – to poetry. But also, it gives birth to the opposite: to the perverse, the illicit, the absurd.