There were many tomorrows to be lived through his children. He could only hope that they would face them more courageously than he had, that his mistakes would serve as warning signs rather than crutches to lean on.

— Roy L. Pickering Jr.

The trip to Mars can only be understood through Black Americans. I say, the trip to Mars can only be understood through Black Americans.

— Nikki Giovanni

The white folks like for us to be religious, then they can do what they want to with us.

— Richard Wright

This writing thing, it ain’t like that hip hop shit, City. For LI’l niggas like you,” he told me, “this writing thing is like a goddamn port potty. It’s one LI’l nigga at a time, shitting in the toilet, funking up the little space he gets. And you shit a regular shit or a classic shit. Either way,” he said. “City, you have to shit classic, then get your black ass on off the pot.” He actually grabbed my hand. “You probably think I’m hyping you just for the money. It ain’t just about the money. It’s really not. Furthermore, it’s about doing whatever it takes for you to have your voice heard. So I don’t know what you’re writing in that book you always carrying around, but it better be classic because you ain’t going to get no two times to get it right, you hear me?

— Kiese Laymon

Time had taught him that whether his sins were pardoned or left unforgiven, they would remain committed. Tomorrow he would hopefully choose wiser, with a stronger measure of compassion.

— Roy L. Pickering Jr.

Tolstoy was a Caucasian, Gandhi was an Asian, and Martin Luther King Jr. was a Negro, yet all of their hearts were inspired by the one idea of nonviolent resistance. King received it from Gandhi, Gandhi received it from Tolstoy, and Tolstoy received it from Christ.

— Abhijit Naskar

Was happiness (which was perhaps achieved not by getting what you wanted, but rather, by obtaining what you didn’t know you wished for until it was in hand) a hologram that would continually change appearance with the slightest shift of perspective? Or maybe happiness by definition was a temporary state of being recognizable only in hindsight. It was impossible to catch what always managed to be overrun and end up in the rearview mirror.

— Roy L. Pickering Jr.

Was love ever easy for anyone? If less complicated, would this make it less appreciated? Perhaps love was difficult for good reason. Perhaps everything on God’s green earth was the result of a flawless plan, even that which seemed most muddled.

— Roy L. Pickering Jr.

Was she happy? She thought – yes, reasonably so. Then again, what was happiness but the vast terrain between ecstasy and agony? Was this too small an ambition?

— Roy L. Pickering Jr.

We all have scars. Just because mine are hidden doesn’t make them any less painful.

— Nicki Salcedo