I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

by Maya Angelou

Words mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human voice to infuse them with the shades of deeper meaning.”

She said that I must always be intolerant of ignorance but understanding of illiteracy.

I find it interesting that the meanest life, the poorest existence, is attributed to God's will, but as human beings become more affluent, as their living standard and style begin to ascend the material scale, God descends the scale of responsibility at a commensurate speed.

Up the aisle, the moans and screams merged with the sickening smell of woolen black clothes worn in summer weather and green leaves wilting over yellow flowers. I couldn't distinguish whether I was smelling the clutching sound of misery or hearing the cloying odor of death.

What child can resist a mother who laughs freely and often, especially if the child's wit is mature enough to catch the sense of the joke?

The quality of strength lined with tenderness is an unbeatable combination, as are intelligence and necessity when unblunted by formal education.

To be left alone on the tightrope of youthful unknowing is to experience the excruciating beauty of full freedom and the threat of eternal indecision. Few, if any, survive their teens. Most surrender to the vague but murderous pressure of adult conformity. It becomes easier to die and avoid conflicts than to maintain a constant battle with the superior forces of maturity.

She used to say that her secret to life was that she “hoped for the best, was prepared for the worst, so anything in between didn't come as a surprise.”

“See, you don't have to think about doing the right thing. If you're for the right thing, then you do it without thinking.”