Unless carefree, mother love was a killer.

Girl, I got my mind. And what goes on in it. Which is to say, I got me...my lonely is mine.

In my mother's church, everybody read the Bible and it was mostly about music. My mother had the most beautiful voice I have ever heard in my life. She could sing anything - classical, jazz, blues, opera. And people came from long distances to that little church she went to - African Methodist Episcopal, the AME church she belonged to - just hear her.

When you first start writing-and I think it's true for a lot of beginning writers-you're scared to death that if you don't get that sentence right that minute it's never going to show up again. And it isn't. But it doesn't matter-another one will, and it'll probably be better. And I don't mind writing badly for a couple of days because I know I can fix it-and fix it again and again and again, and it will be better.

If a Negro got legs he ought to use them. Sit down too long, somebody will figure out a way to tie them up.

Language alone protects us from the scariness of things with no names. Language alone is meditation.

When you know your name, you should hang on to it, for unless it is noted down and remembered, it will die when you do.