Life is like a trumpet - if you don't put anything into it, you don't get anything out of it.

I hate to see the evening sun go down.

You've got to appreciate the things that come from the art of the Negro and from the heart of the man farthest down.

In the South of long ago whenever a new man appeared for work in any of the laborers gangs, he would be asked if he could sing. If he could he got the job. The singing of these working men set the rhythm for the work.

Saving was slow and painful.

My big ears indicated a talent for music. This thrilled me.

Nature was my kindergarten.