We have fallen a long way and it is time to recognize that. The outside world already recognizes it. They already know. They are waiting for us to catch up to what we have shown them. There was a time when you could not go in any ward where Black people live and you could not find a Muslim with the Muhammad Speaks. There was a time when Black women, even though they never came to a mosque, felt safe when they saw a Muslim because they knew we would protect them. There was a time when gang violence would never rear its ugly head because the F.O.I. was strong. But today, when the light goes out in the house, there is nothing for the people to hold onto. So should the show go on? Should the masquerade ball continue? Or should we say that the masquerade is over and let's go home and recommit our lives to Allah (God) and the righteous principles that we know we have been taught; recommit our lives to our spouses and children.
Louis FarrakhanRelated topics
allah ball black came catch children continue fallen felt find gang head women hold home house lives light live nothing outside rear safe saw should show teach ugly waiting way today MuhammadRelated quotes
You've got to stay sharp, on your toes, alert. Always look over your shoulder. Always protect yourself. Don't let your guard down for even a second. There are people who will take advantage of you the moment they see you're not in control. The world's filled with people like that. Nearly everyone you meet is like that. We're animals in a jungle, and we've got to be prepared to fight if we want to survive. You can't trust hardly anyone, hardly anyone at all. Even people who are supposed to like you can turn on you faster than you think. Even friends. People who say they love you are the worst, the most dangerous, the most untrustworthy of all. People who say they love you will pounce when they get the chance. You gotta always remember that they're just waiting for the opportunity to get you. Love's a trick. A cover. A way to catch you off guard. Never let down your guard. Never.
Dean Koontz
What were they saying?” Daly asked.
"They disapprove of your profession,” Doro told him.
"Heathen savages,” Daly muttered. "They're like animals. They're all cannibals.”
"These aren't,” Doro said, "though some of the their neighbors are.”
"All of them,” Daly insisted. "Just give them the chance.”
Doro smiled. "Well, no doubt the missionaries will reach them eventually and teach them to practice only symbolic cannibalism.”
Daly jumped. He considered himself a pious man in spite of his work. "You shouldn't say such things,” he whispered. "Not even you are beyond the reach of God.”
"Spare me your mythology,” Doro said, "and your righteous indignation.” Daly had been Doro's man too long to be pampered in such matters. "At least we cannibals are honest about what we do,” Doro continued. "We don't pretend as your slavers do to be acting for the benefit of our victims' souls. We don't tell ourselves we've caught them to teach them civilized religion.
Octavia Butler
Harry Dresden: There's power in the night. There's terror in the darkness. Despite all our accumulated history, learning, and experience, we remember. We remember times when we were too small to reach the light switch on the wall, and when the darkness itself was enough to make us cry out in fear. Get a good ways out from civilization-say, miles and miles away on a lightless lake-and the darkness is there, waiting. Twilight means more than just time to call the children in from playing outside. Fading light means more than just the end of another day. Night is when terrible things emerge from their sleep and seek soft flesh and hot blood. Night is when unseen beings with no regard for what our people have built and no place in what we have deemed the natural order look in at our world from outside, and think dark and alien thoughts. And sometimes, just sometimes, they do things.
Jim Butcher
I ran and grabbed the arm of the soldier who was lighting the fire. I tore the fuse away from him and, furious, threw myself into my machine to break down the contraption surrounding it. But I was too late. Hardly had I stepped inside when I found myself propelled into the clouds.
I was terrified, but my mind was not too upset for me to remember all that happened at that moment. I can tell you, then, that the fire burned out a bank of rockets (which had been linked together in rows of six with a hook at the edge of each set of half-dozen). Another stage ignited, then another, so that the danger in the gunpowder was left behind as it burned. When the material was used up, the scaffolding was gone. I was thinking that all I had left to do was ram my head against some mountain when I felt (without moving in the slightest) that I was still going up. My machine separated from me, and I saw it fall back to earth.
Cyrano de Bergerac
You are not traditionally beautiful; and you know it. We women do. But what most people mean by beauty is really a kind of aesthetic acceptability, not so much character as a lack of it, a set of features and lineaments that hide their history, that suggest history itself does not exist. But the template by which we recognize the features and forms in the human body that cause the heart to halt, threatening to spill us over into the silence of death-that is drawn on another part of the soul entirely...But all sing, chant, hymn the history of the body, if only because we all know how people regard bodies that deviate from the lauded and totally abnormal norm named beauty. Most of us would rather not recognize such desires in ourselves and thus avoid all contemplation of what the possession of such features means about the lives, the bodies, the histories of others, preferring instead to go on merely accepting the acceptable. But that is not who I am.
Samuel R. Delany