I Note That The Africa Loves To

Folklore Is The Boiled-down Juice, Or Pot-likker, Of Human Living.

There Is No Single Face In Nature, Because Every Eye That Looks Upon It, Sees It From Its Own Angle. So Every Man's Spice-box Seasons His Own Food.

If Science Ever Gets To The Bottom Of Voodoo In Haiti And Africa, It Will Be Found That Some Important Medical Secrets, Still Unknown To Medical Science, Give It Its Power, Rather Than The Gestures Of Ceremony.

When God Had Made The Man, He Made Him Out Of Stuff That Sung All The Time And Glittered All Over. Some Angels Got Jealous And Chopped Him Into Millions Of Pieces, But Still He Glittered And Hummed. So They Beat Him Down To Nothing But Sparks But Each Little Spark Had A Shine And A Song. So They Covered Each One Over With Mud. And The Lonesomeness In The Sparks Make Them Hunt For One Another.

Nothing That God Ever Made Is The Same Thing To More Than One Person.