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Quote by Maya Angelou

“Oh, Black known and unknown poets, how often have your auctioned pains sustained us? Who will compute the lonely nights made less lonely by your songs, or by the empty pots made less tragic by your tales? If we were a people much given to revealing secrets, we might raise monuments and sacrifice to the memories of our poets, but slavery cured us of that weakness.”

Author

Maya Angelou

Maya Angelou was an American author, poet, playwright, actress, and lecturer, known for her profound exploration of race, gender, and culture in her work. Her autobiographical works, including 'I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings,' which detailed her early life of poverty and sexual exploitation, have gained widespread acclaim. more

“Remember when you fell out of that tree on the farm when you were ten, and broke your arm? Remember how he made them let him ride with you in the ambulance on the way to the hospital? He kicked and yelled till they gave in.” “You laughed,” said Clary, remembering, “and my mom hit you in the shoulder.” “It was hard not to laugh. Determination like that in a 10-year-old is something to see. He was like a pit bull.” “If pit bulls wore glasses and were allergic to ragweed.” -Luke and Clary talking about Simon, pg.211-”

Source: Cassandra Clare: The Mortal Instruments Series (5 books): City of Bones; City of Ashes; City of Glass; City of Fallen Angels, City of Lost Souls

“Don't be afraid of showing affection. Be warm and tender, thoughtful and affectionate. Men are more helped by sympathy than by service. Love is more than money, and a kind word will give more pleasure than a present.”

Men Love Giving Kind Love Is Pleasure Love You Affection Warm Thoughtful Sympathy Affectionate Kind Words

Author:John Lubbock

“Formerly I believed books were made like this: a poet came, lightly opened his lips, and the inspired fool burst into song – if you please! But it seems, before they can launch a song, poets must tramp for days with callused feet, and the sluggish fish of the imagination flounders softly in the slush of the heart. And while, with twittering rhymes, they boil a broth of loves and nightingales, the tongueless street merely writhes for lack of something to shout or say”