Quotes from Margaret Walker

Friends and good manners will carry you where money won't go.

When I was about eight, I decided that the most wonderful thing, next to a human being, was a book.

My grandmothers are full of memories, smelling of soap and onions and wet clay, with veins rolling roughly over quick hands, they have many clean words to say, my grandmothers were strong.

The Word of fire burns today On the lips of our prophets in an evil age.

Now when you hates you shrinks up inside and gets littler and you squeezes your heart tight and you stays so mad with peoples you feels sick all the time like you needs the doctor.

Let a new earth rise. Let another world be born. Let a bloody peace be written in the sky. Let a second generation full of courage issue forth; let a people loving freedom come to growth.

The poetry of a people comes from the deep recesses of the unconscious, the irrational and the collective body of our ancestral memories.

I want my careless song to strike no minor key; no fiend to stand between my body's Southern song - the fusion of the South, my body's song and me.

Friends and good manners will carry you where money won't go.

The Word of fire burns today On the lips of our prophets in an evil age.

The poetry of a people comes from the deep recesses of the unconscious, the irrational and the collective body of our ancestral memories.

Let a new earth rise. Let another world be born. Let a bloody peace be written in the sky. Let a second generation full of courage issue forth let a people loving freedom come to growth.

When I was about eight, I decided that the most wonderful thing, next to a human being, was a book.

I'd rather make a good run than a bad stand.

it's what makes you grow up to have younguns and be a sho-nuff mammy all your own ... . A man ain't but trouble, just breath and britches and trouble

The poetry of a people comes from the deep recesses of the unconscious, the irrational and the collective body of our ancestral memories. ------ The Word of fire burns today On the lips of our prophets in an evil age.

She had to find a way to lift them together. The only thing she had was a moan. And she moaned. That moan would become a Spiritual; that Spiritual would become Jazz; which would become Blues then Rhythm and Blues then Rap. That moan would define not only a people but the nation to which they were sailing. That moan would make those people decide that they should, that they could, live.

When we think of Space, when we begin to understand the Martian, we know we must send a black woman on that ship. She is the one who will weather the journey; she will find a song. When she arrives on Mars she will be the one who will greet the life form

My grandmothers were strong. They followed plows and bent to toil. They moved through fields sowing seed. They touched the earth and grain grew. They were full of sturdiness and singing. My grandmothers were strong. My grandmothers were full of memories Smelling of soap and onions and wet clay With veins rolling roughly over quick hands They have many clean words to say. My grandmothers were strong. Why am I not as they?