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.

Maya Angelou

Maya Angelou

Profession: Poet
Nationality: American

Some suggestions for you :

To Mileva Maric: Only the though of you gives my life here a true meaning.

A country becomes really a soul only in consciously serving the intellectual life.

Poetry puts starch in your backbone so you can stand, so you can compose your life.

I thought at the time that it was noble to bear the ills one had silently. But not so silently that others didn't know one was bearing them.

Each one of us has lived through some devastation, some loneliness, some weather superstorm or spiritual superstorm, when we look at each other we must say, I understand. I understand how you feel because I have been there myself. We must support each other and empathize with each other because each of us is more alike than we are unalike.

I'm interested in women's health because I'm a woman. I'd be a darn fool not to be on my own side.

Growing up, my grandmother did not want worldly music in the house. Then when I went out to California, I started listening to Spanish music, mostly Mexican music. But were I in Egypt, I would listen to the music of the people, or if I was in Italy, I'd listen to Italian music.

To make a difference is not a matter of accident, a matter of casual occurrence of the tides. People choose to make a difference.

I had no heart nor art to drag him back to the reeking reality of our life and times.

Since time is the one immaterial object which we cannot influence—neither speed up nor slow down, add to nor diminish—it is an imponderably valuable gift.

Whining is not only graceless, but can be dangerous. It can alert a brute that a victim is in the neighborhood.

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 first time in my life...her voice slid in and curved down trough and over the words. She was nearly singing.

I am truly grateful: for being here, for being able to think, for being able to see, for being able to taste, for appreciating love—for knowing that it exists in a world so rife with vulgarity, with brutality and violence … And I'm grateful to know it exists in me, and I'm able to share it with so many people.

To be allowed, no, invited into the private lives of strangers, and to share their joys and fears, was a chance to exchange the Southern bitter wormwood for a cup of mead with Beowulf or a hot cup of tea and milk with Oliver Twist.