Living Well Is An Art That Can

The Happy Heart Runs With The River, Floats On The Air, Lifts To The Music, Soars With The Eagle, Hopes With The Prayer.

Raising Kids Is Like Nailing Jell-o To A Tree.

Had I Not Had My Grandmother, Who Dared To Be My Rainbow In The Clouds, I Would Have Been Just Another Sexually Abused Barefoot Black Girl On The Roads Of Arkansas.

We Need Much Less Than We Think We Need.

If On Judgement Day I Were Summoned By St. Peter To Give Testimony To The Used-to-be Sheriff's Act Of Kindness, I Would Be Unable To Say Anything In His Behalf. His Confidence That My Uncle And Every Other Black Man Who Heard Of The Klan's Coming Ride Would Scurry Under Their Houses To Hide In Chicken Droppings Was Too Humiliating To Hear. Without Waiting For Momma's Thanks, He Rode Out Of The Yard, Sure That Things Were As They Should Be And That He Was A Gentle Squire, Saving Those Deserving Serfs From The Laws Of The Land, Which He Condoned.