Newspaper people once celebrated as founts of ribald humor and uncouth fun have of late lost all their gaiety and small wonder.

I tried to use words that were dealing with the emotional quality that any human being could recognize in the way that they felt about their country. It's to do with the world we live in. That world is a brutal one and full of war. It's also full of many wonderful things and love and hope.

Hope can be the most wonderful thing in the world or it can crush your heart like an eggshell.

My hope is that 10 years from now after I've been across the street at work for a while they'll all be glad they gave me that wonderful vote.

The only people who live in a post-black world are four people who live in a little white house on Pennsylvania Avenue. The idea that America is post-racial or post-black because a man I admire Barack Obama is president of the United States is a joke. And I hope no one will even wonder about this crazy fiction again.

The happy Union of these States is a wonder their Constitution a miracle their example the hope of Liberty throughout the world.

How wonderful that we have met with a paradox. Now we have some hope of making progress.

I live in literally the same home when I was swiping my first bank card and wondering if I'd have to put back the Charmin. We still don't have a dishwasher. My mom has done all these gardens so now my house looks like the garden shack in the middle of Versailles.

I like to feel the butterflies in the stomach I like to go home and have a restless night and wonder how I'm going to be able to accomplish this feat get jittery. That hunger and those butterflies in the stomach are very essential for all creative people.

I would drive home and see people wearing my No. 34 jersey and wonder why because I didn't feel worthy of that. And all the time I just knew people were staring at me talking about me everywhere I went.