In those sticky summer nights in South London our windows stay open, and our tiny apartment becomes our secret garden. The magic of the secret garden is that it exists in our imagination. There are no limits, no borderlines. The secret garden leads to the marigolds of Mogadishu and the magnolias of Kingston and when the heat turns us sticky and sweet and unwilling to be claimed by defeat we own the night. We own our bodies. We own our lives.

— Diriye Osman

I've always loved being gay. Sure, Kenya was not exactly Queer Nation, but my sexuality gave me joy. I was young, not so dumb and full of cum! There was no place for me in heaven, but I was content munching devil's pie here on earth.

— Diriye Osman

Most people write me off when they see me. They do not know my story. They say I am just an African. They judge me before they get to know me. What they do not know is The pride I have in the blood that runs through my veins;The pride I have in my rich culture and the history of my people;The pride I have in my strong family ties and the deep connection to my community;The pride I have in the African music, African art, and African dance;The pride I have in my name and the meaning behind it. Just as my name has meaning, I too will live my life with meaning. So you think I am nothing? Don’t worry about what I am now, For what I will be, I am gradually becoming. I will raise my head high wherever I go Because of my African pride, And nobody will take that away from me.

— Idowu Koyenikan

Notwithstanding the memories of slavery, and in the face poverty, ignorance, terrorism, and subjugation still deeply woven into their lives, the embittered past of blacks was taken onto a much higher plane of intellectual and artistic consideration during the Renaissance.

— Clement Alexander Price

The African continent has so many stories to tell, it's about time they are told, by them - not use.

— Akilnathan Logeswaran

The God of Imagination lived in fairytales. And the best fairytales made you fall in love. It was while flicking through "Sleeping Beauty" that I met my first love, Ivan. He was a six-year-old hello palazzo with blond hair and eyebrows. He had bomb-blue eyes and his two front teeth were missing. The road to Happily Ever After, however, was paved with political barbed wire. Three things stood in my way.1. The object of my affection didn't know he was the object of my affection.2. The object of my affection preferred Action Man to Princess Aurora.3. The object of my affection was a boy, and I wasn't allowed to love a boy.

— Diriye Osman

The headlines are never in the news! And so, what I am saying is the news is never on the headlines

— Sahndra Fon Dufe

The long rays of sun stretched across the street and touched the twisted Marathi tin roofs of the shops, creating a soft light that dulled the dust and rust, making them look almost beautiful.

— Stanley Gazemba (Bahati Books)

The sky was overcast with thick, gray clouds drifting in the direction of Data. That meant rain. It would come, as long as the clouds drifted in that direction. Lightening flashes momentarily parted the clouds... Shango, the god of lightening and thunder, was registering his anger as this strange talk of a new God is taking hold of simple folk who were once unquestioning votaries of his order. The new malady must be nipped in the bud.

— T.M. Aluko

The Whitman told of another country beyond the sea where a powerful woman sat on a throne while men and women danced under the shadow of her authority and benevolence. She was ready to spread the shadow to cover the Kikuyu. They laughed at this eccentric man whose skin had been so scalded that the black outside had peeled off. The hot water must have gone into his head. Nevertheless, his words about a woman on the throne echoed something in the heart, deep down in their history. It was many, many years ago. Then women ruled the land of the Kikuyu. Men had no property, they were only there to serve the whims and needs of the women. Those were hard years. So they waited for women to go to war, they plotted a revolt, taking an oath of secrecy to keep them bound each to each in the common pursuit of freedom. They would sleep with all the women at once, for didn't they know the heroines would return hungry for love and relaxation? Fate did the rest; women were pregnant; the takeover met with little resistance.

— Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o