Men make war to get attention. All killing is an expression of self-hate.
Whenever you are creating beauty around you, you are restoring your own soul.
We are the ones we have been waiting for.
We have to wake up. We have to refuse to be a clone.
The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don't have any.
Artists have a responsibility to speak and to act when governments fail, and if we don't do that, we really deserve the world we get.
The animals of the planet are in desperate peril. Without free animal life I believe we will lose the spiritual equivalent of oxygen.
My daughter's birth was the incomparable gift of seeing the world at quite a different angle than before, and judging it by a standard that would apply far beyond my natural life.
If we want to fight people in the world, we should fight them with pillows -- pillows stuffed with food, medicine, music… That would be so much cheaper than bombs.
Hard times' is a phrase the English love to use, when speaking of Africa. And it is easy to forget that Africa's 'hard times' were made harder by them.
I think the War on Terror is really absurd, especially coming from a country that is founded on terrorism.
To acknowledge our ancestors means we are aware that we did not make ourselves...We remember them because it is an easy thing to forget: that we are not the first to suffer, rebel, fight, love, and die.
Helped are those who are shown the existence of the Creator's magic in the Universe; they shall experience delight and astonishment without ceasing.
Have you ever found God in church? I never did. I just found a bunch of folks hoping for him to show. Any God I ever felt in church I brought in with me. And I think all the other folks did too. They come to church to share God, not find God.
As we talked of freedom and justice one day for all, we sat down to steaks. I am eating misery, I thought, as I took the first bite. And spit it out.
I have fought and kicked and fasted and prayed and cursed and cried myself to the point of existing.
If she come, I be happy. If she don't, I be content. And then I figure this the lesson I was suppose tolearn.
We alone can devalue gold by not caring if it falls or rises in the marketplace. Wherever there is gold there is a chain, you know, and if your chain is gold so much the worse for you.
The grace with which we embrace life, in spite of the pain, the sorrows, is always a measure of what has gone before.
We will never regret
having been born in this
for we recognize it
for what it is: the time of fullness
In my opinion and experience, imperialists of all nations and races will tell us anything to keep us fighting. For them.
In a way, no matter who's in charge of the corporation that the United States is, the direction in which it is taken seems to be inexorable. So, you just get the job of being the front man for four or eight years. Now, most people realize that's what you are.
I'm thinking of the moment something dies and how we instinctively know it. And of how we try not to know what we know because we do not yet understand how we are to negotiate change.
Love likes to extend itself. If you receive it in a book -- or however you get it -- then your duty is to extend it beyond.
who smiled at us and kissed our babies
blue eyes shining with triumph
well knew we were falling
into our graves
kicked by them
as they counted
It is the sense
that something that was alive
for a very long time
is still alive. Not yet beaten into
by those who kill everything
What that song? I ast. Sound low down dirty to me. Like what the preacher tells you its sin to hear. Not to mention sing.
She hum a little more. Something come to me, she say. Something I made up. Something you help scratch out my head.
The sight of a Black nun strikes their sentimentality; and, as I am unalterably rooted in native ground, they consider me a work of primitive art, housed in a magical color; the incarnation of civilized, anti-heathenism, and the fruit of a triumphing idea.
She thought of how diligently she'd worked to free herself. Difficult because of the shock she was in, discovering she was trapped, captured most of all by possessions.
What make him pull through? I ast
Oh, she say, Harpo made him send you the rest of your sister's letters. Right after that he start to improve. You know meanness kill, she say.
There is always a moment in any kind of struggle when one feels in full bloom. Vivid. Alive. One might be blown to bits in such a moment and still be at peace.
Well, sometime Mr ---- git on me pretty hard. I have to talk to Old Maker. But he my husband. I shrug my shoulders. This life soon be over, I say. Heaven last all ways. You ought to bash Mr ---- head open, she say. Think bout heaven later.
What hurts the most is being misunderstood. They tell me that's an Aquarian trait -- that that's the thing we don't like.
No person is your friend (or kin) who demands your silence, or denies your right to grow and be perceived as fully blossomed as you were intended. Or who belittles in any fashion the gifts you labor so to bring into the world.
I'm always amazed that people will actually choose to sit in front of the television and just be savaged by stuff that belittles their intelligence.
It's so important to unclutter the mind. For me, creativity is greatly impeded just by the chatter and visual clutter of life. It's really important to have a space that is really clear for whatever is emerging to come.
The long-term accommodation that protects marriage and other such relationships is ... forgetfulness.
Love is big; love can hold anger, love can even hold hatred. It's about the intention of what you want it to do.
Helped are those who lose their fear of death; theirs is the power to envision the future in a blade of grass.
First time I got the full sight of Shug Avery long black body with it black plum nipples, look like her mouth, I thought I had turned into a man.
To me war is something to be outgrown, recognized as immature, wasteful, and so destructive to life that human beings should shun it ... as they once shunned bubonic plague.
A writer's heart, a poet's heart, an artist's heart, a musician's heart is always breaking. It is through that broken window that we see the world.
I feel I am a child that's lost its mother. I feel like a calf whose mother has gone off to slaughter.
It's essential that we understand that taking care of the planet will be done as we take care of ourselves. You know that you can't really make much of a difference in things until you change yourself.
The world was almost at the point of forgetting what a fine time people can have helping one another. That people like to work together and to kick back after work and share their experiences. What would happen if our foreign policy centered on the cultivation of joy rather than pain? she thought.
War is a dead end, literally. And, what is more, we simply can't afford it. Not morally, and not financially. How long will it take the citizens of the United States, one wonders, to recognize that the house their country bombed in Iraq is the same one they were living in until it was foreclosed?
I'm getting tired of Harpo, she say. All he think about since us married is how to make me mind. He don't want a wife, he want a dog.
Dear God...I have always been a good girl. Maybe you can give me a sign letting me know what is happening to me.
Humans -- whatever billions we are -- we don't have the control. We are considered expendable, basically.
She standing there looking me straight in the eye. She look tired and her jaws full of air.
I say it's cause I'm a fool, I say. I say it cause I'm jealous of you. I say it cause you do what I can't.
What that? she say.
Fight. I say.
All her young life she has tried to please her father, never quite realizing that, as a girl, she never could.
Even on those days
the news is fully bad.
And all you can do is get out of bed
and failing that
give thanks you have a bed not to get out of.
I imagine good teaching as a circle of earnest people sitting down to ask each other meaningful questions. I don't see it as a handing down of answers.
You really can't be a good artist if you can't say what you really feel. And people may be offended, but, you know, that's how you feel, and that is your right, and that is your gift as well.
What did it mean for a black woman to be an artist in our grandmothers' time? In our great-grandmothers' day? It is an answer cruel enough to stop the blood.
You got to fight them, Celie, she say. I can't do it for you. You got to fight them for yourself. I don't say nothing. I think bout Nettie, dead. She fight, she run away. What good it do? I don't fight, I stay where I'm told. But I'm alive.
Helped are those who live in quietness, knowing neither brand name nor fad; they shall live every day as if in eternity, and each moment shall be as full as it is long.
What I love best about Shug is what she been through, I say. When you look in Shug's eyes you know she been where she been, seen what she seen, did what she did. And now she know.
I'm mad about the waste that happens when people who love each other can't even bring themselves to talk.
Folks crying and fanning and trying to keep a stray eye on the children, but they don't stare at Sofia and her sisters. They act like this the way it always done. I love folks.
Whenever I have knocked, a door has opened. Wherever I have wandered, a path has appeared. I have been helped, supported, encouraged and nurtured by people of all races, creeds, colors and dreams.
The life of my people is to remember forever; each head granary is full. The life of your people is to forget: your thing granaries (museums), and not yourselves, are full.
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