Ask yourself not if this or that is expedient, but if it is right.

We do not work for men. We work for the land and the people. We do not even work for money.

And were your back as broad as heaven, and your purse full of gold, and did your compassion reach from here to hell itself, there is nothing you can do.

All roads lead to Johannesburg.

Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear. Let him not love the earth too deeply... For fear will rob him of all if he gives too much.

There are voices crying what must be done, a hundred, a thousand voices. But what do they help if one seeks for counsel, for one cries this, and one cries that, and another cries something that is neither this nor that.

Now God be thanked that the name of a hill is such music, that the name of a river can heal.