But, based on my friendship with Evie as young mothers, I started going on freedom rides in 1966.

I am not wrong: Wrong is not my name

Like running trying to live a good life has to hurt a little bit, or we're not running hard enough, not really trying.

... the histories of Blacks and Jews in bondage and out of bondage, have been blood histories pursued through our kindred searchings for self-determination. Let this blood be a stain of honor that we share. Let us not now become enemies to ourselves and to each other.

If we lived in a democratic state our language would have to hurtle, fly, curse, and sing, in all the common American names, all the undeniable and representative and participating voices of everybody here.

To tell the truth is to become beautiful, to begin to love yourself, value yourself. And that's political, in its most profound way.

If we even tolerate any oppression of gay and lesbian Americans, if we join those who would intrude upon the choices of our hearts, then who among us shall be free?