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1 " DEAR DIARYYou are greater than the BibleAnd the Conference of the BirdsAnd the UpanishadsAll put togetherYou are more severeThan the ScripturesAnd Hammurabi’s CodeMore dangerous than Luther’s paperNailed to the Cathedral doorYou are sweeterThan the Song of SongsMightier by farThan the Epic of GilgameshAnd braverThan the Sagas of IcelandI bow my head in gratitudeTo the ones who give their livesTo keep the secretThe daily secretUnder lock and keyDear DiaryI mean no disrespectBut you are more sublimeThan any Sacred TextSometimes just a listOf my eventsIs holier than the Bill of RightsAnd more intense "
― Leonard Cohen , Book of Longing
2 " There isn’t a word for walking out of the grocery storewith a gallon jug of milk in a plastic sackthat should have been bagged in double layers—so that before you are even out the dooryou feel the weight of the jug draggingthe bag down, stretching the thinplastic handles longer and longerand you know it’s only a matter of time untilbottom suddenly splits.There is no single, unimpeachable wordfor that vague sensation of somethingmoving away from youas it exceeds its elastic capacity —which is too bad, because that is the wordI would like to use to describe standing on the streetchatting with an old friendas the awareness grows in me that he isno longer a friend, but only an acquaintance,a person with whom I never made the effort—until this moment, when as we say goodbyeI think we share a feeling of relief, a recognition that we have reachedthe end of a pretense, though to tell the truthwhat I already am thinking aboutis my gratitude for language—how it will stretch just so much and no farther;how there are some holes it will not cover up;how it will move, if not inside, thenaround the circumference of almost anything—how, over the years, it has given meback all the hours and days, all theplodding love and faith, all themisunderstandings and secretsI have willingly poured into it. "
― Tony Hoagland
3 " one thing I don’t needis any more apologiesi got sorry greetin me at my front dooryou can keep yrsi don’t know what to do wit emthey don’t open doorsor bring the sun backthey don’t make me happyor get a mornin paperdidn’t nobody stop usin my tears to wash carscuz a sorry. "
― Ntozake Shange , For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide / When the Rainbow Is Enuf
4 " Yeah, it’s hard, babyIt’s hard right down to the boneI said Oh, it’s hard babyIt’s hard right down to the very boneIt’s hard when you’re a womanAnd you find yourself all aloneI’ve been flapping and scrappingAnd running from door to doorYou know I’ve been flapping and scrapping, honeyRunning from door to door "
― Walter Dean Myers , Street Love
