50 years old is like springtime to me.

I was lucky, as many of my generation was, in having a man like Dr. King in our lives. He came at a time that we needed to take a long look at each other and see how similar we were.

After I got over the terrible pain of having something of mine taken from me, I began to think how bad everybody else must be feeling. It wasn't a nice time.

I was unique in that I was a kind of black that white people could accept. I was their daydream. I had the worst kind of acceptance because it was never for how great I was or what I contributed. It was because of the way I looked.

The best thing about living... Is the chance to keep on doing it!

Every color I can think of and nationality, we were all touched by Dr. King because he made us like each other and respect each other.

The naked female body is treated so weirdly in society. It's like people are constantly begging to see it, but once they do, someone's a hoe.