I was telling stories before I could write. I like to tell stories, and I like to talk to things. If you]ve read fairy tales, you know that everything can talk,from trees to chairs to tables to brooms. So I grew up thinking that, and I turned it into stories.

I was telling stories before I could write. I like to tell stories, and I like to talk to things. If you]ve read fairy tales, you know that everything can talk,from trees to chairs to tables to brooms. So I grew up thinking that, and I turned it into stories.

Sometimes it's a struggle to get over self-love first. Sometimes in this struggle for love, we give up, or lose everything, and we still don't achieve love. Some people don't even recognize real love when it comes without being called or sought.

Love entered in my heart one dayA sad, unwelcome guest.But when it begged that it might stayI let it stay and restIt broke my nights with sorrowingIt filled my heart with fearsAnd, when my soul was prone to sing,It filled my eyes with tears.But...now that it has gone its way,I miss the dear ole pain.And, sometimes, in the night I prayThat Love might come again.

Them white people made hate. They made hate just like they had a formula for it and followed that formula down to the last exact gallon of misery put in. Well ... that's what they made and that's what they got.

I see so many fools in this world that sometimes I could just go home and cry about what people do to themselves Hey, wake up, wake up, look here! Think a minute, think a minute. This is your life! You got, what, ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty years here, and you gonna be gone.'

It's always something to remind you that everything ain't never gonna be alright!