I am not going to spend any time whatsoever in attacking the Foreign Secretary. If we complain about the tune, there is no reason to attack the monkey when the organ grinder is present.
I am not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses black people and people of color.
I am not going to stop speaking out on behalf of policies that I think are right -- regardless of ideology, party or political expediency.
I am not going to stress the usual argument that the police habitually mistreat Negroes. Every Negro knows this. There is scarcely any black man, woman, or child in the land who at some point or other has not been mistreated by a policeman. (A young man in Watts said, The riots will continue because I, as a Negro, am immediately considered to be a criminal by the police and, if I have a pretty woman with me, she is a tramp even if she is my wife or mother.).
I am not going to take a role because there's money. It might extend my checkbook, but not my integrity.
I am not going to talk about my personal life anymore. You have to learn that lesson sometime.
I am not going to the House of Lords. Never. That's not who I am. That's not where I am.
I am not going to use the federal government's authority deliberately to circumvent the natural inclination of people to live in ethnic homogeneous neighborhoods.
I am not going to wait and have us plunge back into a contentious national debate that has very little chance of succeeding. Let's make the Affordable Care Act work for everybody.
I am not gonna say that a guy's looks make him have to try harder in any way. I don't believe that at all. I think if he is funny, smart and cool, he's all set. Looks are not very important to me.
I am not good at first or second impressions, and you have to spend some time with me to know me. Also, I don't want to put my best foot forward and prove something, as that is not me. I would rather be me and have you like me for who I am, instead of being someone else.
I am not good at noticing when I'm happy, except in retrospect. My gift, or fatal flaw, is for nostalgia. I have sometimes been accused of demanding perfection, of rejecting heart's desires as soon as I get close enough that the mysterious impressionistic gloss disperses into plain solid dots, but the truth is less simplistic than that. I know very well that perfection is made up of frayed, off-struck mundanities. I suppose you could say my real weakness is a kind of long-sightedness: usually it is only at a distance, and much too late, that I can see the pattern.
I am not good at small talk. I will hide in a cupboard to avoid chitty-chat.
I am not good wife material because I'm fiercely independent and like to go off and do my own thing.
I am not good with others.
I am not graceful.
I am not great at computers. If I were to try shopping through Google, I'd end up with 33 vests.
I am not greedy, so I would gladly give a song to someone else to sing if it makes more sense.
I am not handsome or sexy. Of course, it's not like I am hopeless.