I’s been livin’ a long time in yesterday, Sandy chile, an’ I knows there ain’t no room in de world fo’ nothin’ mo’n love. I know, chile! Ever’thing there is but lovin’ leaves a rust on yo’ soul. An’ to love sho ‘nough, you got to have a spot in yo’ heart fo’ ever’body – great an’ small, white an’ black, an’ them what’s good an’ them what’s evil – ‘cause love ain’t got no crowded-out places where de good ones stay an’ de bad ones can’t come in. When it gets that way, then it ain’t love.

Looks like what drives me crazy Don't have no effect on you-- But I'm gonna keep on at it Till it drives you crazy, too.

Keep your hand on the plow. Hold on.

Books -where if people suffered, they suffered in beautiful language, not in monosyllables, as we did in Kansas

I will not take 'but' for an answer. Negroes have been looking at democracy's 'but' too long.

Misery is when you heard on the radio that the neighborhood you live in is a slum but you always thought it was home.

I swear to the Lord, I still can't see, why Democracy means, everybody but me.