I travel a lot. It used to be, when I would go to any country, I could guarantee that the first question would establish my name, and the fact that I've written Roots, and the third question, at least no later than the fourth question would not be a question, so much as a statement, something like, "We understand that in America white people do such and such bad things to black people."

Early in the spring of 1750, in the village of Juffure, four days upriver from the coast of The Gambia, West Africa, a manchild was born to Omoro and Binta Kinte.

That's what happens with writing. Ingredients bubble and cook. Material becomes substance.

Beginning writers must appreciate the prerequisites if they hope to become writers. You pay your dues - which takes years.

You can never enslave somebody who knows who he is.

Is this how you repay my goodness--with badness?” cried the boy. “Of course,” said the crocodile out of the corner of his mouth. “That is the way of the world.

Every time an old person dies, it's like a library burning down.