The man that brings ant-infested faggots into his hut should not grumble when lizards begin to pay him a visit.

Only the story can continue beyond the war and the warrior. The story outlives the sound of the war drum... The story is our escort. Without it we are blind... It is the thing that sets us apart from cattle.

I did not think of writing as a career and I don't think that I did this ever really, but I think of writing as something that I could do, I should do alongside whatever else I was doing. It simply grew on me.

As our fathers said, you can tell a ripe corn by its look.

Anybody who wants to rule a group will find that if this group is quarreling among themselves they leave you alone.

Mosquito [...] had asked Ear to marry him, whereupon Ear fell on the floor in uncontrollable laughter. "How much longer do you think you will live?" she asked. "You are already a skeleton." Mosquito went away humiliated, and any time he passed her way he told Ear that he was still alive.

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