But As De Old Folk Always Say,

Love Is Lak De Sea. It’s Uh Movin’ Thing, But Still And All, It Takes Its Shape From De Shore It Meets, And It’s Different With Every Shore.

Women Forget All The Things They Don't Want To Remember, And Remember Everything They Don't Want To Forget.

I Do Not Pray. . . . I Do Not Expect God To Single Me Out And Grant Me Advantages Over My Fellow Men. . . . Prayer Seems To Me A Cry Of Weakness, And An Attempt To Avoid, By Trickery, The Rules Of The Game As Laid Down. I Do Not Choose To Admit Weakness. I Accept The Challenge Of Responsibility.

It Must Be Recess In (heaven) If St. Peter Is Lettin His Angels Out.

If It Was So Honorable And Glorious To Be Black, Why Was It The Yellow-skinned People Among Us Had So Much Prestige?