The trouble for the thief is not how to steal the chief’s bugle, but where to blow it.

He thrived with passion and compassion, humor and style. We had him whether we know who he was or did not know, he was ours and we were his.

I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back.

I speak to the black experience, but I am always talking about the human condition.

You want me to do something... tell me I can't do it.

Out of the huts of history's shame I rise Up from a past that's rooted in pain I rise I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise.

We are loved by Love itself. There is nothing good that we can't do.