Quotes About Black

It was any outcast's nightmare. If I looked carefully, I suspected I might find it beneath the black paint of the small acrylic by the window.

There sit our sons", he said, "young, healthy and handsome, the flower of the Xhosa tribe, the pride of our nation. We are here to promise them manhood, but it is an empty promise because we Xhosas and all black South Africans, are a conquered people.

the idea of the black inferiority complex and castigated what he called the worship and idolization of the West and their ideas. The inferiority complex, he affirmed, was the greatest barrier to liberation

Edgardina sempre de preto; e feliz, envaidecida, porque a dor não arrefecia no seu coração.

Those eyes saw everything. The green saw your heart, they said, the blue your mind, and the black…the black drank in wyrd and your woe so others would be safe. Killing was nothing to what thos eyes had seen.

Midway across a cold, clear stream she caught the black scent of corruption, and stopped.

Exiles, she and Leroy. They didn't need to go to Paris; that would do no good. What's the point of being spat on in France? What could they do in Rio, where black people are a mythological presence? No, the frontiers in Leroy's destiny were the sounds he heard and gave back as music; for Cypress the terrain of the new world was art. Her dance, like her people before her, adapted to the contours of her new land.

I'm a 48-year-old writer who can remember being a 10-year-old writer and who expects someday to be an 80-year-old writer. I'm also comfortably asocial -- a hermit in the middle of Los Angeles -- a pessimist if I'm not careful, a feminist, a Black, a former Baptist, an oil-and-water combination of ambition, laziness, insecurity, certainty, and drive.

I'm a fifty-three year old writer who can remember being a ten-year old writer and who expects someday to be an eighty-year old writer. I am also comfortably asocial - a hermit in the middle of Seattle - a pessimist if I'm not careful, a feminist, a black, a former Baptist, an oil-and-water combination of ambition, laziness, insecurity, certainty, and drive.

I'm also comfortably asocial--a hermit in the middle of Seattle--a pessimist if I'm not careful, a feminist, a black, a former Baptist, an oil-and-water combination of ambition, laziness, insecurity, certainty, and drive.

I'm a pessimist if I'm not careful, a feminist, a Black,...an oil-and-water combination of ambition, laziness, insecurity, certainty, and drive.

Black is the most essential of all colors. Above all, if I may say so, it draws its excitement and vitality from deep and secret sources of health...One must admire black. Nothing can debauch it.

One must respect black, nothing prostitutes it. It does not please the eye and it awakens no sensuality. It is the agent of the mind far more than the most beautiful color to the palette or prism

En contemplant le paysage noir et blanc du plateau, j'ai compris combien la tristesse était un mot important dans la definition du monde. Elle se trouve a la base de tout, elle est le cinquième élement, la quintessence.

Each day I deceived myself, unlike you who could never deceive yourself. Anxiety was trapped in the depths of my heart, like a formation of black clouds I could not break free of.

Dressed in his black leather jacket and black leather pants, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, his face shadowed with stubble, he stepped into the room like menace come to life.

Aos olhos dos antigos a cólera que há na melancolia é o negro que há na noite.

The black cat padded in, raised its tail in greeting to Socrates, and jumped onto the lay brother's lap.

She is a black witch," Charles said, equally quietly. "We have always been enemies. For right now, we are aimed at the same target; that is all. If your target is pleasure and you're sure that's what hers is, too, that's fine. Just remember—a black witch doesn't love anything but power.

If I were a vampire, I think I'd only wear black or dark brown—to hide the stains.

It was a spider as large as a wagon wheel, black as slate.

The genesis of my coat, made from fine wool, spinning backwards through the looms, onto the body of a lamb, a black sheep a bit apart from the flock, grazing on the side of a hill. A lamb opening its eyes to the clouds that resemble for a moment the woolly backs of his own kind.

What he does not know is that were he to find the patience to read the book in the spirit in which it asks to be read, his entire life would begin to change, and little by little he would come to a full understanding of his situation—that is to say, of Black, of White, of the case, of everything that concerns him.

Stars, on the other hand, were inexplicable. Not holes in the sky, not candles, not electric lights, not anything that resembled what you knew. The immensity of the black air overhead, the vastness of the space that stood between you and those small luminosities, was something that resisted all understanding. Benign and beautiful presences hovering in the night, there because they were there and for no other reason. The work of God's hands, yes, but what in the world had he been thinking?