People don't make changes because things are wonderful.
The shadow of my mother danced around the room to a tune that my own shadow sang.
Why is a picture of something real eventually more exciting than the thing itself?
The people who invented race, who grouped us together as "black," were inventing and categorizing their ability to do something vicious and wrong.
I wish that I could love someone so much that I would die from it.
The past is a room full of baggage and rubbish and sometimes things that are of use, but if they are of real use, I have kept them.