beware the easy griefs / that fool and fuel nothing.

I tell poets that when a line just floats into your head, don't pay attention 'cause it probably has floated into somebody else's head.

Don't let anyone call you a minority if you're black or Hispanic or belong to some other ethnic group. You're not less than anybody else.

Already I am no longer looked at with lechery or love.

I don't like the idea of the black race being diluted out of existence. I like the idea of all of us being here.

There are no magics or elves / Or timely godmothers to guide us. We are lost, must / Wizard a track through our own screaming weed.

She was learning to love moments. To love moments for themselves.