Marcus Black Quotes & Sayings

Black men of Carthage, Ethiopia, of Timbuktu and Alexandria gave the likes of civilization to this world — Marcus Garvey

Be Black, buy Black, think Black, and all else will take care of itself. — Marcus Garvey

I have the better right to indulgence herein, because my devotion to letters strengthens my oratorical powers, and these, such as they are, have never failed my friends in their hour of peril. Yet insignificant though these powers may seem to be, I fully realize from what source I draw all that is highest in them. Had I not persuaded myself from my youth up, thanks to the moral lessons derived from a wide reading, that nothing is to be greatly sought after in this life save glory and honour, and that in their quest all bodily pains and all dangers of death or exile should be lightly accounted, I should never have borne for the safety of you all the burnt of many a bitter encounter, or bared my breast to the daily onsets of abandoned persons. All literature, all philosophy, all history, abounds with incentives to noble action, incentives which would be buried in black darkness were the light of the written word not flashed upon them. — Marcus Tullius Cicero

When you're a confused 19-year-old filled with questions you can't even articulate and a kind of black rage that feeds at your heart from the moment you wake up in the morning, and you discover Marcus Aurelius' 'The Meditations,' that changes your life. — Nic Pizzolatto

Lily?"

She couldn't see his face, but she knew his eyes were on her. She could feel them.

A beat passed. Then another. He flicked the flashlight on, his eyes zooming in on her mouth. "Don't suppose you're scared enough of the dark to leave."

She shook her head. "I don't suppose you're planning on leaving me on my own."

A smile, then, "You might cheat." He tugged their linked hands and leaned the slightest bit closer.

"True," she breathed, mirroring his movement. "I wouldn't trust you if our roles were reversed." Inches from his face, she admired the curve of his top lip. "What are you doing, Black?"

"I think," he whispered back, his warm breath fanning over her lips, "I'm going to have to kiss you, McIntire. — Jessica Lemmon

Black men, you were once great; you shall be great again. Lose not courage or faith, go forward. — Marcus Garvey

This propaganda of dis-associating Western Negroes from Africa is not a new one. For many years white propagandists have been printing tons of literature to impress scattered Ethiopia, especially that portion within their civilization, with the idea that Africa is a despised place, inhabited by savages, and cannibals, where no civilized human being should go, especially black civilized human beings. This propaganda is promulgated for the cause that is being realized today. That cause is COLONIAL EXPANSION for the white nations of the world. — Marcus Garvey

Burn shavings and splinters of pitch pine, and when they turn to charcoal, put them out, and pound them into mortar with size. This will make a pretty black for fresco painting. — Marcus Vitruvius Pollio

When he finally lifted his head up from the sea to cough, then breathe, he looked out at all the water before him, at the vast expanse of time and space. He could hear Marjorie laughing, and soon, he laughed too. When he finally reached her, she was moving just enough to keep her head above water. The black stone necklace rested just below her collarbone and Marcus watched the glints of gold come off it, shining in the sun. "Here," Marjorie said. "Have it." She lifted the stone from her neck, and placed it around Marcus's. "Welcome home. — Yaa Gyasi

Sonny would tell Marcus about how America used to lock up black men off the sidewalks for labor or how redlining kept banks from investing in black neighborhoods, preventing mortgages or business loans. So was it a wonder that prisons were still full of them? Was it a wonder that the ghetto was the ghetto? — Yaa Gyasi

With horror he saw that her hair was already afire as the tarred stake burned about her head. He held her agonized gaze with his fierce black eyes. "I'll love you forever, and beyond," he vowed as he raised both arms and plunged his sword into her heart.

~Marcus Magnus — Virginia Henley

Marcus Garvey was one of the first advocates of Black Power, and is still today the greatest spokesman ever to have been produced by the movement of Black Consciousness ... He spoke to all Africans on the earth, whether they lived in Africa, South America, the West Indies or North America, and he made Blacks aware of their strength when united. — Walter Rodney

Look to Africa, when a black king shall be crowned for the day of deliverance is at hand! — Marcus Garvey

Why should not Africa give to the world its Black Rockefeller, Rothschild and Henry Ford? Now is the opportunity. Now is the chance for every Negro to make every effort toward a commercial, industrial standard that will make us comparable with the successful business men of other races. — Marcus Garvey

With painstaking rumination, the tips of his fingers grazed over my neck, a deafening silence. I didn't move as his hand paused at the base of my throat. He listened to the arrhythmic beating of my heart, my pulse thumping beneath his fingers. He kissed me along my neckline and throat. I almost burst apart from the longing. My blood burned for him. — Rae Hachton

The man who backbites an absent friend, nay, who does not stand up for him when another blames him, the man who angles for bursts of laughter and for the repute of a wit, who can invent what he never saw, who cannot keep a secret
that man is black at heart: mark and avoid him. — Marcus Tullius Cicero

Africa with 400 million Black People can
do it. If you cannot do it, if you are not prepared to do it then you
will DIE. You race of cowards, you race of imbeciles, you race of good
for-nothings, if you cannot do what other men have done, what other
nations have done, what other races have done, THEN YOU HAD BETTER DIE. — Marcus Garvey

She took a second look at him, at his fancy tailored suit. Dark gray with pinstripes. Oh please, like she'd really believe he was a dom at all? "Gabrielle Anderson. Are you sure you're Master Marcus?"
"Why would you think I'm not Master Marcus?" he asked. Well, good grief. She waved a hand at him and kept the duh from slipping out. Just in case he really was Master Marcus. Maybe he hadn't changed yet or something. "The suit? Where are your leathers or latex or ... biker jacket or vest? And black? Did you forget to wear black?"
He stared for a second, as if she'd turned into a drooling idiot, and then simply roared. Deep, full laughter - amazing coming from someone who looked like he should have a stick up his ass. — Cherise Sinclair

I look around. You'd have to be out of your fucking mind to write, as Marcus did, that Black History Month is a ploy to lever more entitlement money out of Congress, but the ho-hum nonresponse of the white crowd reading this bit of transparent insanity is, to me, even weirder. — Matt Taibbi

the emperor had chewed off his balls and stuffed a one-way ticket to the Black Sea up his rectum [Marcus Corvinus explains what happened to Ovid] — David Wishart

Of course, physics prevents us from dividing things beyond a certain limit, determined by what is called the Planck constant. This is because, according to physicists, it is actually impossible to measure a distance smaller than 10-34m without creating a black hole that would swallow up the measuring device. — Marcus Du Sautoy

I was made to rule the darkness. — Rae Hachton

A good man does not spy around for the black spots in others, but presses unswervingly on towards his mark. — Marcus Aurelius

Rise up Black Men, and take your stand. Reach up black men and women and pull all nature's knowledge to you. Turn ye around and make a conquest of everything North and South, East and West. And then we you have wrought well, you will have merited God's blessing, you will become God's chosen people and naturally you'll become leaders of the world. — Marcus Garvey

I regard the Klan, the Anglo-Saxon clubs and White American societies, as far as the Negro is concerned, as better friends of the race than all other groups of hypocritical whites put together. — Marcus Garvey

You Just scared me half to death," I said.
"You should be thrilled you're halfway there. — Rae Hachton

No race has the last word on culture and on civilization. You do not know what the black man is capable of; you do not know what he is thinking and therefore you do not know what the oppressed and suppressed Negro, by virtue of his condition and circumstance, may give to the world as a surprise. — Marcus Garvey

I'm sorry,' she said to each of the dead as she unzipped and unfastened their things, 'I'm sorry Courtney. I'm sorry Marcus. I'm sorry Rachel. I'm sorry Jon. I'm sorry I'm alive and you're dead. I'm sorry I was asleep. I'm sorry I didn't save you and now I'm taking your things. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. — Holly Black

I keep thinking about Marcus Garvey and what he says about black people knowing themselves. It's clear that if the so-called Negro goes to school, he earns a degree for knowing the _white_ man, but not for knowing _himself_. All he learns about himself is slavery. Slavery is not a history of a man; it's a misfortune of a race of people. The black man needs to know the dignity of our race. The only way he will get this knowledge is to take it for himself. — Vaunda Micheaux Nelson

Go to work! Go to work in the morn of a new creation ... until you have ... reached the height of self-progress, and from that pinnacle bestow upon the world a civilization of your own. — Marcus Garvey

He drew in an answering breath, and she waited to hear the quip, the joke, the dab of levity for the most intense moment they'd ever shared. But he only dropped his head into the crook of her neck and laid his mouth over her leaping pulse as they found their unhurried rhythm in the dark. — Jessica Lemmon

The rise of African nations concurrent with the spread of the Nation of Islam and the civil rights movement gave black America a burst of pride over and above anything they had had since the decline of the movement of Marcus Garvey. — John Henrik Clarke

The Black skin is not a badge of shame, but rather a glorious symbol of national greatness. — Marcus Garvey

Say my name."

"No." She tipped her head up, her breath sawing out of her lungs. "Don't stop, please."

He languidly stroked her. "I won't stop, but I won't take you there unless you say it."

Her voice locked in her throat.

He stroked into her again at the same time giving her the pressure she desired with his thumb. "I have all night. — Jessica Lemmon

I have no desire to take all black people back to Africa; there are blacks who are no good here and will likewise be no good there. — Marcus Garvey

Marcus Garvey, Elijah Muhammed, Malcolm X, Martin Luther King, Stokely Carmichael, Amiri Baraka and other black male leaders have righteously supported patriarchy. They have all argued that it is absolutely necessary for black men to relegate black women to a subordinate position both in the political sphere and in home life. — Bell Hooks

In Europe I couldn't be anything but a black cook working for somebody. My inspiration was to own, to be the chef. — Marcus Samuelsson

The stone in quarries is found to be of different and unlike qualities. In some it is soft ... in others it is medium ... in still others it is hard as in lava quarries. There are also numerous other kinds: for instance, in Campania , red and black tufas ; in Umbria , Picenum, and Venetia , white tufa which can be cut with a toothed saw like wood. — Marcus Vitruvius Pollio

I'm an American chef. I'm American. I live here. I love being here. But, of course, it is different. A black man's journey is different. — Marcus Samuelsson

I wait for a long time without anything changing. The room is still dark, the floor still cold and hard, my heart still beating faster than normal. I look down to check my watch and discover that it's on the wrong hand - I usually wear mine on my left, not my right, and my watchband isn't gray, it's black. Then I notice bristly hairs on my fingers that weren't there before. The calluses on my knuckles are gone. I look down, and I am wearing gray slacks and a gray shirt; I am thicker around the middle and thinner through the shoulders. I lift my eyes to a mirror that now stands in front of me. The face staring back at mine is Marcus's. — Veronica Roth

You're killing me in this proper little suit," he said, skating a heated look over her shirt. "My place or yours?"

She swallowed thickly, the hand against his chest beginning to sweat. "I-I'm busy."

"You're gonna be," he said, smiling. "Need to know what bed you're gonna be in, though. Bringing my A game."

"Don't you think - ?"

"About you underneath me? Only every other minute. Now answer me, or else I'll throw you on the nearest desk."

Heat burst onto her cheeks. He noticed.

"Oh, really?" He smiled down at her. — Jessica Lemmon

I had already imagined how it would be next year.
I'd be at Columbia, and Marcus would move to Manhattan, or maybe one of the outer boroughs. I would study hard, and he would make money playing gigs at dingy bars. We'd spend countless hours going to clubs to see bands on the verge, touring obscure art exhibits, and sipping pot after pot of black coffee at hole-in-the-wall cafes. Many more hours would be spent lounging under the covers. We would never run out of witty and fascinating things to say to each other. Eventually, he'd apply to Columbia, and we'd be the sort of well-educated, cosmopolitan couple that confuse the suburbumpkins who never leave Pineville. — Megan McCafferty

Intercourse with resuscitated wife for particular number of days, superstitious act designed to insure safe operation of household machinery. Electricity mourns the absence of the energy from (wife) within the household's walls by stalling its flow to the outlets. As such, an improvised friction need to take the place of electricity, to goad the natural currents back to their proper levels. This is achieved with the dead wife. She must be found, revived, and then penetrated until heat fills the room, until the toaster is shooting bread onto the floor, until she is smiling beneath you with black teeth and grabbing your bottom. Then the vacuum rides by and no one is pushing it, it is on full steam. Days flip past in chunks of fake light, and the intercourse is placed in the back of the mind. But it is always there, that moving into a static-ridden corpse that once spoke familiar messages in the morning when the sun was new. — Ben Marcus

On Slavery: The saddest slap in the face is we have NO monument, no real statues or memorials, no special day of Atonement or Remembrance (NOT ONE), no thanks for 400+ years of free labor, forced servitude across the Trans-Atlantic, ass beatings, buying ourselves and families out of slavery, rape and plunder ... but everyone else has monuments, special museums, and even movies. This is what America thinks of black people, so-called black president and all, who has been largely silent on this subject ... we'll even celebrate Leprechauns, Easter Bunnies, and Secretary's Day before we acknowledge our history. — Brandi L. Bates

The winter oak ... is very useful in buildings but when in a moist place it takes in water to its centre ... and so it rots. The Turkey oak and the beech both ... take in moisture to their centre and soon decay. White and black poplar , as well as willow , linden , and the agnus castus ... are of great service from their stiffness ... they are a convenient material to use in carving. — Marcus Vitruvius Pollio

He saw his enemies stealthily darting from rock to tree, and tree to bush, creeping through the brush, and slipping closer and closer every moment. On three sides were his hated foes and on the remaining side - the abyss. Without a moment's hesitation the intrepid Major spurred his horse at the precipice. Never shall I forget that thrilling moment. The three hundred savages were silent as they realized the Major's intention. Those in the fort watched with staring eyes. A few bounds and the noble steed reared high on his hind legs. Outlined by the clear blue sky the magnificent animal stood for one brief instant, his black mane flying in the wind, his head thrown up and his front hoofs pawing the air like Marcus Curtius' mailed steed of old, and then down with a crash, a cloud of dust, and the crackling of pine limbs. — Zane Grey