I Saw That Streak In Him When

Emmett Till And I Were About The Same Age. A Week After He Was Murdered... I Stood On A Corner With A Gang Of Boys, Looking At Pictures Of Him In The Black Newspapers And Magazines. In One, He Was Laughing And Happy. In The Other, His Head Was Swollen And Bashed In, His Eyes Bulging Out Of Their Sockets, And His Mouth Twisted And Broken... I Couldn't Get Emmett Till Out Of My Mind, Until One Evening I Thought Of A Way To Get Back At White People For His Death.

The Only Limitations One Has, Are The Ones They Place On Themselves

The Greater Our Level Of Understanding, The Harder The Tests Become.

I'm The Greatest, I'm A Bad Man, And I'm Pretty!

Don't Count The Days, Make The Days Count.