Malcolm Azania Quotes

You know, in my experience," said Kareem, caging his fingers and drawing out his words, "the jokers...who talk the most about 'playing the race card'...are the people who own all the diamonds...who've picked up the clubs...to beat down the spades...because they've got no heart.

I never sought glory. Basic respect would suffice.

Pain is too strong and life is too brief, brother, to avoid the pleasures that don’t hurt us.

All of them cite that toxic spew, even though there’s not a syllable of supporting evidence. Because the controversy itself became news. Save a country, save a world, save a child—it doesn’t matter. You don’t need proof or even evidence to burn down a man’s soul. All you need is accusation.

Nothing like hope to doom you.

Sky’s so big and dazzling and buzzing and crackling and moaning with all that black silence, I feel like my skull is open to space, all that way-beyond soaking directly into my brain. Stars and stars and stars...some of em planets, some of em satellites. All of em out there, alone, untouchable.

It’s a special kind of hugging, the kind where deep down you’re facing the unspoken fact that this’s the last time you’re gonna hold somebody, and so you make your cells hold on, make em drink in somebody’s scent and texture, so you can keep em with you after the world has taken em away.

Believing in anyone more than you believe in yourself causes you to suspend your own judgment, which leads to counter-self-actualization, or self-deactivation.

We challenge ourselves to try at least four new bizarrities in every week’s groceries.

The self-delusion that mysterious forces and persons unknown are conspiring against us is, surprisingly, a comforting belief, because it means we’re significant enough in this anarchic world to warrant someone’s enmity. That delusion saves us from the far more difficult to accept reality: that we’re not that important to anyone. That the universe just isn’t “into” us.
Paranoia is the emotive-psychestructure’s response to feeling ignored, unloved, or forgotten in an existence filled with random acts of destructive indifference emphasizing the inherent futility of life and struggle. If you’re ever to achieve serenity, ultimately you must accept that in such a vast cosmos, you simply don’t matter very much.

There’re two types of the people in the world. Those who do what they say they’re gonna do, and everybody else.

That uncountable myths and legends and ecclesiastical operas and dirges have at their core, if not in their trappings, near identical mechanisms, performances, and outcomes is proof most solid of the centrality of the panhuman subconscious—or superconscious—experience of the myriad and manifold wonders and terrors of the cosmos.

The id isn’t satisfied with “enough,” because enough is never enough. The id always needs more, or specifically, more than anybody else. So “enough” becomes “more than” which becomes “all.” And even then, the id fears that all can be taken away; therefore crushing the capacity of others to resist becomes paramount.

Raiders?"
"Gun men. Men who plannedt to kill us or rape us or sell us into slavery, or rape us and then kill us—"
"Who were they? I mean, which side were they on?"
"Men with guns are always on the same side," she said. "Whoever paidt for the guns.

Them boys are so street they aint got asses—they got asphalt!