From out the throng and stress of lies, from out the painful noise of sighs, one voice of comfort seems to rise: "It is the meaner part that dies.
Even when I was just designing T-shirts people really gravitated to them.
I was working a corporate job for years and it always felt restrictive, it felt like I was doing something I wasn't supposed to be doing.
I wanted to give people an experience. I wanted them to get their money's worth.
I wasn't able to afford high-end brands or any of that, so I grew up on streetwear.
I want to represent the street, not in a negative sense, but in the sense that when I was growing up, that's what I grew up on.
The thing is you can be a great designer but you can also be lazy or not understand the other person's preferences or be more concerned about being a star than being good at what you do.
So man's insanity is heaven's sense, and wandering from all mortal reason, man comes at last to that celestial thought, which, to reason, is absurd and frantic; and weal or woe, feels then uncompromised, indifferent as his God.
Listening (had there been any one to listen) from the upper rooms of the empty house only gigantic chaos streaked with lightning could have been heard tumbling and tossing, as the winds and waves disported themselves like the amorphous bulks of leviathans whose brows are pierced by no light of reason, and mounted one on top of another, and lunged and plunged in the darkness or the daylight (for night and day, month and year ran shapelessly together) in idiot games, until it seemed as if the universe were battling and tumbling, in brute confusion and wanton lust aimlessly by itself.
The vision preached by my father a half-century ago was that his four little children would no longer live in a nation where they would judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. However, sadly, the tears of Trayvon Martin's mother and father remind us that, far too frequently, the color of one's skin remains a license to profile, to arrest and to even murder with no regard for the content of one's character.
Music can give you your dreams. It will teach you hard work, it will break your heart and make you so happy, you can't stand it. . . . I don't think I'd have been president if it hadn't been for music.