maya angelou's words do more than that. my explanation of what makes a great writer would never do her justice. her words are like milk and honey. they are rich, like chocolate cake, you can only handle so many bites in one sitting.
i ache to teach this book to young people.
"the coat was a friend that I hugged to me in the strange and unfriendly place."
"i don't think she ever knew that a deep-brooding love hung over everything she touched. In later years I asked if she loved me and she rushed me off with: 'God is love. Just worry about whether you're being a good girl, then He will love you."
"she was one of the few gentlewomen I have ever known, and has remained throughout my life the measure of what a human being can be."
"i was liked, and what a difference it made. i was respected not as Mrs. Henderson's grandchild or Bailey's sister but for just being Marguerite Johnson."
"I had read A Tale of Two Cities and found it up to my standards as a romantic novel. She opened the first page and I heard poetry for the firs time in my life."
and her poems offer grace and depth of soul:
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise...
i read her words, and i hear a story.
i listen to her words, and i feel the passion.
phenomenal.
