"If I know a song of Africa, of the giraffe and the African new moon lying on her back, of the plows in the fields and the sweaty faces of the coffee pickers, does Africa know a song of me? Will the air over the plain quiver with a color that I have had on, or the children invent a game in which my name is, or the full moon throw a shadow over the gravel of the drive that was like me, or will the eagles of the Ngong Hills look out for me?"
— Isak Dinesen

"They say that somewhere in Africa the elephants have a secret grave where they go to lie down, unburden their wrinkled gray bodies, and soar away, light spirits at the end."
— Robert R. McCammon (Boy's Life)

"You know you are truly alive when you’re living among lions."
— Isak Dinesen (Out of Africa)

"I have loved no part of the world like this and I have loved no women as I love you. You're my human Africa. I love your smell as I love these smells. I love your dark bush as I love the bush here, you change with the light as this place does, so that one all the time is loving something different and yet the same. I want to spill myself out into you as I want to die here.

--To his mistress, Catherine Walston who inspired The End of the Affair"
— Graham Greene

"I've never really wanted to go to Japan. Simply because I don’t like eating fish. And I know that's very popular out there in Africa."
— Britney Spears

"No other continent has endured such an unspeakably bizarre combination of foreign thievery and foreign goodwill."
— Barbara Kingsolver (The Poisonwood Bible)

"During my lifetime I have dedicated myself to this struggle of the African people. I have fought against white domination, and I have fought against black domination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die."
— Nelson Mandela

"We learn from history that we don't learn from history!"
— Desmond Tutu

"The worst thing that colonialism did was to cloud our view of our past."
— Barack Obama (Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance)

"Except for the sound of the rain, on the road, on the roofs, on the umbrella, there was absolute silence: only the dying moan of the sirens continued for a moment or two to vibrate within the ear. It seemed to Scobie later that this was the ultimate border he had reached in happiness: being in darkness, alone, with the rain falling, without love or pity."
— Graham Greene (The Heart of the Matter)

"In Kilanga, people knew nothing of things they might have had- A Frigidaire? a washer-dryer combination? Really, they'd sooner imagine a tree that could pull up it's feet and go bake bread. It didn't occur to them to feel sorry for themselves."
— Barbara Kingsolver (The Poisonwood Bible)

"We never realized that so many children could go unseen- that so many beautiful faces could be invisible. "
— Invisible Children

"One avoids Creolisms. Some families completely forbid Creole and mothers ridicule their children for speaking it."
— Frantz Fanon (Black Skin, White Masks)

"It [is] that courage that Africa most desperately needs."
— Barack Obama (Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance)

"Беше времето на небесната война."
...
"Нейният баща и беше разправял за ръцете. И за кучешките лапи. Винаги, когато оставаше насаме с някое куче, той се навеждаше и помирисваше кожата на стъпалата му. "Тази миризма - обичаше да казва, сякаш описваше аромата на глътка бренди - е най-великата на света! Букет! Полъх от грандиозни пътешествия." Тя се преструваше на погнусена, но кучешката лапа си оставаше едно чудо - никога не лъхаше на мръсотия. "Като катедрала! - бе възкликнал баща й. - Може би лъх от тази или онази градина, от зелена поляна или от цикламена леха - досущ смес-концентрат от всички обходени през дена пътеки."
...
"Спалните бяха притихнали като тъмни джобове на златен костюм."
...
"На зазоряване, когато се промъкваше вкъщи, тя го намираше заспал в креслото на баща й, изтощен от професионални и лични грабежи. Тя мислешеза Караваджо. Има такива хора, просто трябва да се вкопчиш в тях, да се впиеш в плътта им, за да не полудееш в тяхната компания."
...
"В Канада пианото не може без вода. Отваря се капакът и се оставя чша вода. След месец чашата е празна."
...
"В пустинята водата е обичана като жена - изтичащ между пръстите лазур, чийто капки галят гърлото като звуци от любимо име. Поглъщаш нечие отсъствие. На жена. В Кайро. Бели, протяжни извивки на надигащо се от леглото тяло - тя се надвесва през прозореца и дъждът попива в голата й плът."
...
"Тя го мразеше, когато говореше така. Тогава погледът й ставаше любезен, а вътрешно изпитваше желание да го зашлеви. Винаги бе искала да го зашлеви и осъзнаваше сексуалността на този акт."
...
"Красивите песни на вярата пронизват въздуха като стрели, минаретата разговарят, сякаш разнасят слуха за любовниците, които вървят в студения утринен въздух, наситен с миризмата на дървени въглища и хашиш. Грешници в свещен град."
...
"От този миг нататък, бе му пошушнала тя преди, или ще намерим душите си, или ще ги изгубим."
...
"Как се случи това? Да се влюбя и да се разчленя.
Бях в ръцете й. Бях дръпнал ръкава на ризата до рамото, за да ивдя белега от ваксина. Обичам го, казах. Този блед ореол на нейната ръка. Виждам как спринцовката чертае драскотина. Пробив - и срумът прониква. Това се е случилоотдавна, когато е била на девет години, в салона за физкултура.""
— Michael Ondaatje (The English Patient)

"I feel to that the gap between my new life in New York and the situation at home in Africa is stretching into a gulf, as Zimbabwe spirals downwards into a violent dictatorship. My head bulges with the effort to contain both worlds. When I am back in New York, Africa immediately seems fantastical – a wildly plumaged bird, as exotic as it is unlikely.

Most of us struggle in life to maintain the illusion of control, but in Africa that illusion is almost impossible to maintain. I always have the sense there that there is no equilibrium, that everything perpetually teeters on the brink of some dramatic change, that society constantly stands poised for some spasm, some tsunami in which you can do nothing but hope to bob up to the surface and not be sucked out into a dark and hungry sea. The origin of my permanent sense of unease, my general foreboding, is probably the fact that I have lived through just such change, such a sudden and violent upending of value systems.

In my part of Africa, death is never far away. With more Zimbabweans dying in their early thirties now, mortality has a seat at every table. The urgent, tugging winds themselves seem to whisper the message, memento mori, you too shall die. In Africa, you do not view death from the auditorium of life, as a spectator, but from the edge of the stage, waiting only for your cue. You feel perishable, temporary, transient. You feel mortal.

Maybe that is why you seem to live more vividly in Africa. The drama of life there is amplified by its constant proximity to death. That’s what infuses it with tension. It is the essence of its tragedy too. People love harder there. Love is the way that life forgets that it is terminal. Love is life’s alibi in the face of death.

For me, the illusion of control is much easier to maintain in England or America. In this temperate world, I feel more secure, as if change will only happen incrementally, in manageable, finely calibrated, bite-sized portions. There is a sense of continuity threaded through it all: the anchor of history, the tangible presence of antiquity, of buildings, of institutions. You live in the expectation of reaching old age.

At least you used to.

But on Tuesday, September 11, 2001, those two states of mind converge. Suddenly it feels like I am back in Africa, where things can be taken away from you at random, in a single violent stroke, as quick as the whip of a snake’s head. Where tumult is raised with an abruptness that is as breathtaking as the violence itself. "
— Peter Godwin (When a Crocodile Eats the Sun: A Memoir of Africa)

"That would be Axelroot all over, to turn up with an extra wife or two claiming that's how they do it here. Maybe he's been in Africa so long he's forgotten that we Christians have our own system of marriage, and it's called Monotony."
— Barbara Kingsolver (The Poisonwood Bible)

"“Anathema didn’t only believe in ley-lines, but in seals, whales, bicycles, rain forests, whole grain in loaves, recycled paper, white South Africans out of South Africa, and Americans out of practically everywhere down to and including Long Island.”"
— Terry Prachett & Neil Gaiman

"Unoka went into an inner room and soon returned with a small wooden disc containing a kola nut, some alligator pepper and a lump of white chalk.

"I have kola," he announced when he sat down, and passed the disc over to his guest.

"Thank you. He who brings kola brings life. But I think you ought to break it," replied Okoye passing back the disc.

"No, it is for you, I think," and they argued like this for a few moments before Unoka accepted the honor of breaking the kola. Okoye, meanwhile, took the lump of chalk, drew some lines on the floor, and then painted his big toe.
"
— Things Fall Apart

"Obwohl diese afrikanischen Militärbanden oft nicht größer oder mächtiger sind als die organisierten kriminellen Banden in Asien oder Osteuropa, wird über ihre Aktivitäten in den Medien - sogar in den westlichen Medien - unter der Rubrik Politik (Geschehen aus aller Welt) respektvoll berichtet, statt unter der Rubrik Verbrechen."
— J.M. Coetzee (Tagebuch eines schlimmen Jahres)

"Most striking about the traditional societies of the Congo was their remarkable artwork: baskets, mats, pottery, copper and ironwork, and, above all, woodcarving. It would be two decades before Europeans really noticed this art. Its discovery then had a strong influence on Braque, Matisse, and Picasso -- who subsequently kept African art objects in his studio until his death. Cubism was new only for Europeans, for it was partly inspired by specific pieces of African art, some of them from the Pende and Songye peoples, who live in the basin of the Kasai River, one of the Congo's major tributaries.

It was easy to see the distinctive brilliance that so entranced Picasso and his colleagues at their first encounter with this art at an exhibit in Paris in 1907. In these central African sculptures some body parts are exaggerated, some shrunken; eyes project, cheeks sink, mouths disappear, torsos become elongated; eye sockets expand to cover almost the entire face; the human face and figure are broken apart and formed again in new ways and proportions that had previously lain beyond sight of traditional European realism.

The art sprang from cultures that had, among other things, a looser sense than Islam or Christianity of the boundaries between our world and the next, as well as those between the world of humans and the world of beasts. Among the Bolia people of the Congo, for example, a king was chosen by a council of elders; by ancestors, who appeared to him in a dream; and finally by wild animals, who signaled their assent by roaring during a night when the royal candidate was left at a particular spot in the rain forest. Perhaps it was the fluidity of these boundaries that granted central Africa's artists a freedom those in Europe had not yet discovered. "
— Adam Hochschild (King Leopold's Ghost: A Story of Greed, Terror, and Heroism in Colonial Africa)

"Слънцето трябва да залезе и да се издигне месецът, докато Кайро се отвори като мида и се разкире красотата му в силуетите."
...
"Някои палми накланят глави сред вятъра, нощта е чудна във всеки отрязък, благодарение на собствените и на чуждите духове,а той, самотният пътешественик, не може да си представи мръсния, припрян, пронизителен и потискащ живот през деня."
...
"Понякога напращелият град се уригваше. Всичко миришеше на разложения от стомашни сокове. Накрая на улицата лежеше полусмялно слепоочие, което щеше скоро да се разтече. Една лъжица загребваше от месестата част на презряла папая, на връщане от пазара петите не излъхваха пот,а кориандър. Той не знаеше какво го отвращаваше повече, морският бриз, по време на отлива, носещ гнилия дъх на водорасли и плажни медузи, или уханията на мюсюлманската закуска от вътрешности на коза, запържвани върху малки печки. Пътеката на човечеството бе постлана с коварни изкушения."
...
"Най-непоносими са шумовете: гукащите гълъби в отворения шкаф, дрезгавогласни и свадливи от любовно усърдие, огромните котки, които минават през скелето на покрива и ридаят от ненаситна разгоненост."
...
"Те рецитираха първата сура, фатихах, насочили длани към небето, сякаш искаха да уловят някакво благословение, което слизаше от небето върху кораба."
...
"Ричард Франсис Бъртън умря рано сутринта, когато нишките бяло и черно бяха неразличими. Над главата му висеше една персийска калиграфия на която пишеше:
И това ще отмине."
— Ilija Trojanow (Der Weltensammler.)

"Away behind us hung the Elgeyo Escarpment, a long wall of orange light above the blue shadows of the Kerio Valley. At our feet, two thousand feet below, lay hills and thickets in shadow, and broadening bands of gold where the sunlight spread deeper among the foothills and up the valleys. Beyond, on the floor of the main Rift, was a vague land of long parallel ridges, sheets of mist or old grey lava flows, it was hard to tell which. Northwards we could see the blunt-edged, dull sheen of Lake Baringo with its dark islands, and gleams of water on the plains around it."
— R. O. Hennings

"To the same degree that your understanding of and attitude towards Afrika becomes more positive, your understanding of and attitude towards yourself will also becomes more positive..."
— Baba Omowale fka Malcolm X