You know how the wind feels fluffy, like you could stuff it into a pillowcase right before a big thunderstorm? Harlem’s the same. Trouble smells a certain way. You can touch it.
You can’t erase the past. You can’t burn it away. That’s the spell on you. That’s magic. Science in its purest form.
When you have a calling, sometimes you need to heal yourself just as much as the person who you’re trying to heal. You gotta take care of yourself, or else the whole world is gonna fall apart.
When you find someone who’s gonna make room for you on the door when the ship goes down, that’s a rose you cultivate.
Too much in Harlem happens in the shadows. People fear what they can’t see. And that’s what makes you different. They see you. It makes them trust you.[to Luke]