I would not have you descend into your own dream. I would have you be a conscious citizen of this terrible and beautiful world.

The spirit and soul are the body and brain, which are destructible-that is precisely why they are so precious.

Anyone can make a baby, but it takes a man to be a father.

You do not give your precious body to the billy clubs of Birmingham sheriffs, nor to the insidious activity of the streets.

To question what I see, then to question what I see after that, because the questions matter as much, perhaps more than, the answers.

You are growing into consciousness, and my wish for you is that you feel no need to constrict yourself to make other people comfortable.

My work is to give you what I know of my own particular path while allowing you to walk your own.

I should not mistake her calm probing for the absence of anger.

Serious history was the West, and the West was white.

She had wanted her son to stand for what he believed and to be respectful. And he had died for believing his friends had a right to play their music loud, to be American teenagers.

I found that the same softness which once made me a target now compelled people to trust me with their stories.

…I am left with lessthan one drop of my blood that does not tremble.I recognize the the signs of the old flame.

Bad improvisers block action, often with a high degree of skill. Good improvisers develop action."(p.115)

A man has no more character than he can command in a time of crisis.

A single conversation across the table with a wise man is better than ten years mere study of books.

The rebel can never find peace. He knows what is good and, despite himself, does evil. The value which supports him is never given to him once and for all - he must fight to uphold it, unceasingly.

You get into habits. Ways of being with certain people.

Are there no Moravians in the Moon, that not a missionary has yet visited this poor pagan planet of ours, to civilise civilisation and christianise Christendom?

The most-honored ancestors of your matriarch besmirched the season of the orange blossom.

The U.S. is, to a very unusual extent, a business-run society.

Time is like a fashionable host That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, And with his arm outstretch'd, as he would fly, Grasps in the comer.