The truth is... everything counts. Everything. Everything we do and everything we say. Everything helps or hurts; everything adds to or takes away from someone else.
I was reared in the conservative atmosphere of a Methodist parsonage.
The loss of love is a terrible thing; They lie who say that death is worse.
Yet do I marvel at this curious thing:/ To make a poet black, and bid him sing!
I have a rendezvous with life.
Not for myself I make this prayer, But for this race of mine That stretches forth from shadowed places Dark hands for bread and wine.