The bible fits man for life and prepares him for death
Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Life - life - let there be life!
Madam Life's a piece in bloom Death goes dogging everywhere: she's the tenant of the room, he's the ruffian on the stair.
Shakespeare and Rembrandt have in common the faculty of quickening speculation and compelling the minds of men to combat and discussion.
And lo, the Hospital, gray, quiet, old, Where life and death like friendly chafferers meet.
Open your heart and take us in, Love-love and me.
I am damnably sick of Italy, Italian and Italians, outrageously, illogically sick. . . . I hate to think that Italians ever did anything in the way of art. . . . What did they do but illustrate a page or so of the New Testament! They themselves think they have a monopoly in the line. I am dead tired of their bello and bellezza.
I really feel a sense of responsibility first as a creation of a force that I call God, that's bigger than myself. And because I'm black, I feel the responsibility to that. I feel the responsibility to my womanness. But more importantly, I feel a responsibility to my humanness.
Cats definitely have their own opinions.
As I contemplate the kind of future I want for children-my own and other people's-I believe we must look inward to God for guidance and strength and backward to draw on the values and legacies of our families, ancestors, and communities.