I Sit In My New Room And

Look, I Know You Meant Well Creating The World And All, But How Could You Let It Get Away From You Like This? How Come You Couldn't Stick With Your Original Idea Of Paradise? People's Lives Were A Mess.

If Someone Should Ask Me, 'what Does The Soul Do?' I Would Say, It Does Two Things. It Loves. And It Creates. Those Are Its Primary Acts.

"why Is It Sports Is The Only Thing White People See Us Being Successful At? I Don't Want To Play Football," He Said. "i Wanna Be A Lawyer." "that's Fine With Me," I Said, A Little Annoyed. "i've Just Never Heard Of A Negro Lawyer, That's All. You've Got To Hear Of These Things Before You Can Imagine Them." "bullshit. You Gotta Imagine What's Never Been."

What Has Happened To Our Ability To Dwell In The Unknowing, To Live Inside A Question And Coexist With The Tensions Of Uncertainty? Where Is Our Willingness To Incubate Pain And Let It Birth Something New? What Has Happened To Patient Unfolding, To Endurance? These Things Are What Form The Ground Of Waiting.

I'm Tired Of Carrying Around The Weight Of The World. I'm Just Going To Lay It Down Now. It's My Time To Die, And It's Your Time To Live. Don't Mess It Up.