Most Of The Things That Are Asked

Early In The Spring Of 1750, In The Village Of Juffure, Four Days Upriver From The Coast Of The Gambia, West Africa, A Manchild Was Born To Omoro And Binta Kinte.

That's What Happens With Writing. Ingredients Bubble And Cook. Material Becomes Substance.

We All Suffer. If A Man's Wise, He Learns From It.

Most Of Us Prefer To Be As Quiet As Possible About Giving, Because Every Time It's Publicized That We Do Something, If It's Something Of The Nature Of Giving, We'll Be Doubly Besieged, And You Really Get Sick Of Being Always Criticized No Matter What You Do.

In All Of Us There Is A Hunger, Marrow-deep, To Know Our Heritage- To Know Who We Are And Where We Have Come From. Without This Enriching Knowledge, There Is A Hollow Yearning. No Matter What Our Attainments In Life, There Is Still A Vacuum, An Emptiness, And The Most Disquieting Loneliness.