This may be a dream, but I'll say it anyway: I was supposed to be married last year, and I bought a gown. When I meet Nelson Mandela, I shall put on this gown and have the train of it removed and put aside, and kiss the ground that he walks on and then kiss his feet.

Every day has its emotional difficulties. I miss my mother whether I'm singing her music or not.

I applied for a scholarship to Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia. I knew I was good enough, but they turned me down. And it took me about six months to realize it was because I was black. I never really got over that jolt of racism at the time.

Music is a gift and a burden I've had since I can remember who I was.

Greed has driven the world crazy. And I think I'm lucky that I have a place over here that I can call home.

Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood," a song that was written for Simone, she confronted the band's lead singer, Eric Burdon. "So you're the honky," she said, "who stole my song and got a hit out of it?

You can't help it. An artist's duty, as far as I'm concerned, is to reflect the times.