Love is lak de sea. Itโs uh movinโ thing, but still and all, it takes its shape from de shore it meets, and itโs different with every shore.
you can't beat me and my prayers!
Folklore is the boiled-down juice, or pot-likker, of human living.
Africa has her mouth on Moses.
She stood there until something fell off the shelf inside her.
No hour is ever eternity, but it has its right to weep.