One of the hardest things in life is having words in your heart that you can't utter.

My youngest uncle Randy and I were the first members of our entire family to ever go to college.

Even during the rationing period, during World War II, we didn't have the anxiety that we'd starve, because we grew our own potatoes, you know? And our own hogs, and our own cows and stuff, you know.

My grandmother though, began to prepare in her own neurotic - and I think psychotic - way to face racism. So she taught us to be racist, which is something I had to undo later when I got to Michigan, you know.

Love was just a word to me. Until you came along and gave it meaning.

If you expect someone else to guide you, you'll be lost.

I mean, my people were very, very simple. They were peasant people, you know?