Leon Black Quotes

Leon had pestered me during dinner one night, I lost control, and the black wings made their debut. The family was stunned into silence for a whole thirty seconds. And then everyone called me Goth Princess for a week and Arabella kept leaving vampire novels by my door.

CHAPTER SIX: THE DARK SIDES OF THE KPOP INDUSTRY

Il diritto naturale non esiste [...]. Non c'è un diritto che quando c'è una legge per proibire di fare una data cosa sotto minaccia di punizione. Prima che ci sia la legge, non c'è di naturale che la forza del leone, o il bisogno dell'essere che ha fame, che ha freddo, il bisogno in una parola... No, le persone che il mondo onora non sono che delle canaglie che hanno avuto la fortuna di non essere colte in flagrante.

I want to look at the work. I don’t care if its white or black. I don’t agree that “If you’re white, you can’t write”. I want to see what they can do. I also don’t believe that because I am a man, I can’t write about women. I had better quit writing, if I can’t write about women. Why can’t women write about men? It’s talent that’s important.

Frоm what K-pоp trainееs еndurе at thе start оf thеir "bооt camps" tо thе suicidе attеmpts, racism, and sеxual and physical assaults, thе truth abоut K-pоp stars and thеir industry is anything but glamоrоus

Only Jesus is able to bear the weight of the center. Your Blackness cannot. Your Whiteness cannot. Your American-ness cannot. Your “Whatever-ness” cannot.

[Some] Americans are generally incapable of perceiving class differences among blacks and are quick to ascribe antisocial underclass behavior to all African Americans.

No one tells you when you fall in love with a star, one day it might burn out and leave behind a black hole.

The worst crime on the part of the revolutionaries would be to give the smallest concessions to the privileges and prejudices of the whites. Whoever gives his little finger to the devil of chauvinism is lost.

For an instant he was able to cross the line and understand this strange loyalty of Jew to Jew. Those Jews who lived free in England were only there due to some quirk of fate instead of Aushwitz and every Jew knew that genocide could have happened to his own family except for that quirk of fate. Yet, as time stood suspended, Gilray was all gentiles who never quite understood Jews. He could befriend them, work with them, but never totally understand them. He was all white men who could never quite understand black men and all black men who could never quite understand whites. He was all normal men who could tolerate or even defend homosexuals...but never fully understand them. There is in us all that line that prevents us from fully understanding those who are different.

Americans are generally incapable of perceiving class differences among blacks and are quick to ascribe antisocial underclass behavior to all African Americans.

To be soft, to be fragile as a Black man in this world, is not safe. So, when I look at my life, I can see and sense all the little ways the world has hurt me. And I can also see the little ways I’ve hurt myself, too.

The twins had always seemed both blessed and cursed; they'd inherited, from their mother, the legacy of an entire town, and from their father, a legacy hollowed by loss. Four Vignes boys, all dead by thirty. The eldest collapsed in a chain gang from heatstroke; the second gassed in a Belgian trench; the third stabbed in a bar fight; and the youngest, Leon Vignes, lynched twice, the first time at home while his twin girls watched through a crack in the closet door, hands clamped over each other's mouths until their palms were misted with spit.

They spent most of that first summer in a campground in California, near the town of Oceano, central coast. South of the beach access road, people rode ATVs over the dunes, and the ATV engines sounded like bugs from a distance, a high buzzing whine. Ambulances drove down the beach to collect ATV drivers three or four times a day. But north of the road, the beach was quiet. Leon loved walking north. There wasn’t much between Oceano and Pismo Beach, the next town up the coast. This lonely stretch of California, forgotten shoreline, sand streaked with black.

It is also a reminder for me to sit with the same idea: that things can be boring and don’t need to be anything other than what they are. And That ideology historically is different for Blackness than for anyone else, a people who, not by their own will and cognition, have made hustle and labor a staple of how to get ahead.

She understood instinctively that it was the very insignificance of her life up to that moment—its unobtrusiveness—that made her suitable for the task she was being called perform. It was the Party that spoke but it was History that called, and she answered. Ann left her infant son with her husband in New York and took a plane to Mexico. There she delivered a sealed envelope to a contact the Party had designated. After making the delivery, she flew back to New York and resumed the life she had lived before. It was as simple as that. Yet it was not simple at all. As Ann soon discovered, she had become a small but decisive link in the chain by which Joseph Stalin reached out from Moscow to Cayocoán, Mexico, to put an ice-pick in Leon Trotsky’s head.

Israel is one of the most multiracial and multicultural countries in the world. More than a hundred different countries are represented in its population of 6 million. Consider how the Israeli government spent tens of millions of dollars airlifting more than forty thousand black Ethiopian Jews to Israel in 1984 and 1991. Since 2001 Israel has reached out to help others, taking in non-Jewish refugees from Lebanon, the Ivory Coast, Sierra Leone, Vietnam, Liberia, and Congo, and even Bosnian Muslims. How many such refugees have the twenty-two states in the Arab League taken in? The Arab world won’t even give Palestinian refugees citizenship in their host countries. Remember, Jews can’t live in the neighboring Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan or in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. But Arabs are living as citizens in Israel. What does that tell you about their respect for other cultures? Over 1 million Arabs are full Israeli citizens. An Arab sits on the Supreme Court of Israel. There are Arab political parties expressing views inimical to the State of Israel sitting in the Knesset, Israel’s parliament. Women are equal partners in Israel and have complete human rights, as do gays and minorities. Show me an Arab nation with a Jew in its government. Show me an Arab country with half as many Jewish citizens as Israel has Arab citizens. Show me freedom of speech, freedom of religion, freedom of the press, and human rights in any Arabic country in the Middle East the way they exist and are practiced in Israel. It is those same freedoms that the Muslims resent as a threat to Islam and that they are fighting against, be it in Israel, Europe, or the United States.

Paul Cuffee, born in 1759, was a free, able and resourceful Quaker businessman of African and American Indian descent. Although he was black himself, Cuffee became a ship’s captain and built a lucrative shipping empire. Becoming a prosperous merchant he had the money to carry out his various philanthropically ventures. In 1815 he also established the first racially integrated school in the United States, locating it in Westport, Massachusetts. The following year he advocated settling freed American slaves back to the West Coast of Africa. At first he found little support from the young American government but being aware of a British colony founded in Freetown, Sierra Leone a British colony he looked for support for his venture from the British government. Although they didn’t support him financially, they did allow him to bring in the freed former slaves. As he became better known as a crusader for this purpose, free black leaders and some members of United States Congress joined him and embraced his plan to take emigrants to Sierra Leone. At the start Cuffee intended to make only one voyage per year, taking settlers and off set his expenses by bringing back nonperishable valuable cargoes such as hand crafted items and furniture quality hard woods. In 1816, at his own expense, Captain Cuffee took thirty-eight American freed blacks, from Boston to Sierra Leone, which was still the only colony that existed for this purpose in West Africa.

I’ve heard of you,’ Leon said, as James Adams approached. ‘You’re the guy that started the epic food fight in the campus dining-room.’ James smirked. ‘Good to know my legend lives on.’ ‘I bow down before you,’ Alfie said. ‘You’re the guy that had sex in the campus fountain.’ Grace shook her head. ‘No, that was Dave Moss.

The leader of the Drexel refugees was Leon Black, a husky, brash, Dartmouth and Harvard Business School graduate in his 30s who was running the Drexel merger group out of New York. Black was a native New Yorker born into privilege. But his world shattered in 1975 when his father, Eli Black, then the chief executive of Chiquita banana importer United Brands, leaped to his death from his office in the Pan Am building above Grand Central Terminal. In the days after his death, United Brands was discovered to have made millions in bribes to Honduran officials in order to reduce taxes on banana exports.

Leon was not alone. There was also the black-masked leader of the Steelblood Front, as well as their hieral menace, Sistia.

As for punishing Confederate leaders, blacks may have sung about hanging Jeff Davis to a crab-apple tree but a black preacher came closer to capturing popular feelings: “O Lord, shake Jeff Davis ober de mouf ob Hell, but O Lord, doan’ drap him in!” Except for the confiscation of land, most freedmen saw little to gain by the punishment of ex-Confederate leaders; on the contrary, some feared that an aroused white populace would surely visit its rage on the most vulnerable targets—the newly freed slaves.

Elizabeth Keckley, who had worked as a maid for Davis, thought singling him out for punishment was simply irrelevant to the noble cause that had prompted her to leave his service. “The years have brought many changes,” she reflected; “and in view of these terrible changes even I, who was once a slave, who have been punished with the cruel lash, who have experienced the heart and soul tortures of a slave’s life, can say to Mr. Jefferson Davis, ‘Peace! you have suffered! Go in peace.’ ” Regardless of how blacks had viewed the war, most of them could concur with the idea of amnesty for Jefferson Davis, if only because they intended to remain in a society made up largely of people of his color and outlook.

In the years that followed, the British used their Sierra Leone colony as a base for settling freed blacks whom they released from captured slaving ships. The bulk of these ‘recaptives’ originated from among the Yoruba and Igbo peoples of modern Nigeria (the main source of west African slave exports in the early nineteenth century). The original settlers, known collectively as ‘Creoles’, were ardent Christians and strongly anglicised in character.

By contrast, a schoolteacher in North Carolina recounted the story of a sick black woman preparing for death. She gave the teacher her will, plans for a funeral and a grave, and insurance policies, requesting that she look after them. When the teacher asked her if she wanted to see her husband, who had deserted her, she replied, “No, and if you ever hear from him, tell him I don’t leave him even a good wish.” She then displayed an envelope, containing what she called her most prized possession, and handed it to the teacher for safekeeping. “When I am gone, no one will care about this envelope. Will you promise to keep it, so I will know I am not all gone so soon?” The envelope contained college credits she had accumulated after attending night school while working all day. 2

off, she staggered to the bathroom, through three sets of doors and two stairwells and thinking she must have gone wrong because next she was stumbling down a passage, the walls polished and glossy as apples, and heading for a single narrow door at the end. When she opened it, the whole of the Vegas Strip ran out before her, thousands of feet below. The room was huge and square, black as the sea at night. Its floor was transparent glass: nothing between her and the distant ground. At its centre was a lone porcelain commode, which she headed for, walking on air, flying through drunkenness, and sat on it, fully clothed, to pull herself together. Sitting on the sky with Vegas spread beneath her was as surreal as it was trippy. Only in Vegas could you go to the bathroom and feel like a god. Music pumped into the room. Robin closed her eyes. A familiar refrain started up: the charity single she had done with Puff City and the Olympians. The time she had sung with Leon... Just thinking his name was a knife through her heart. She had to let him go but she couldn’t. She wanted to know if he was OK. She thought about him all the time. She dreamed about him. He was the first thing she thought about in the morning and the last thing she thought about at night. She longed for him and ached for him. She remembered almost telling him her fears that night on the beach; how she hadn’t because she was too damn stubborn and stupid and hadn’t wanted to let him in. She wished she had. She wanted his arms around her now more than she had ever wanted anything. Leon might be lost to her, but Robin vowed that as soon as the tour was done she would go to the police and tell them what she knew about Puff City. She couldn’t be sure, and she’d lied to Shawnella

nearby New York or distant Beijing, but whenever I was in town, I’d call to say I was on my way. Each time I’d arrive, she’d already have covered half the dining room table with the kind of items I only seemed to consume with her. They were a reflection of her more traditional fare from the old world — hard-boiled eggs, pickled cucumbers, herring in brine, black bread and cream cheese. We’d supplement this with ethnic staples

There is almost always something at stake, something to live for and fight for.

Blackness is love, to me. To be loved is also very Black.

To be Black, to be a Black man in the era I grew up in, was easily everything and nothing at once.

The Black girl was never labeled as ‘hot’ or a catch. Sometimes, the Black girl wasn’t even on-screen. And when she was, she wasn’t the star, she wasn’t painted as desirable. I learned it but I didn’t know I was learning it. None of us did.

Bet ya’ moms woulda twerked for MLK if he came down 138th and the Grand Concourse.

Being Black, for me, has always been about everything and nothing at once, and the coded language in between.

It is all of those things and none of those things. Blackness is not a monolith—it is as nuanced, as different, and as bold as our hairstyles, our fashion choices, and our vernacular. It is the space between a comma and a bar, a breath taken or breaths strangled out of us.

Afro-normalism (ahf-roe nörm/a-leišm): the art of capturing, depicting, and celebrating Black people doing things that are considered mundane and ordinary to the general public. e.g. - Black people fishing; Black people making tea; Black people reading comics; Black people living.

Afro-normalism speaks to our being as enough. There is so much pressure to go above and beyond, to be more than you were yesterday.

Black people, read books. We drink coffee and get the names of our professors; we show up late to class. We go shopping for water filters and shop at Ikea like everyone else. Far too often, our art and representations of us in the media don’t get to depict this. We don’t get to be normalized. We don’t get to be human… But my interest in what is boring has as much to do with the act of being as a form of rebellion and resistance as it does with the idea that we don't need an idea of what a state of being is to just be in the first place.

That is life and that is living and that is beautiful. It is stillness. It is quiet and quite boring. I like it.

To be black is to be seen by everyone and no one at all.

Please. Write all the poems now. And often. Break them open with your teeth, with a pen. Take them from the pit of the stomach and shout them out, make them loud. Poetry will be our greatest soundtrack.

It is easier to believe that the world does not change,” Leon Wieseltier observed about anti-Semitism, “than to believe that the world changes slowly.

It’s strange to think that this little black bean will grow up to be a big plant and that plant will have its own seeds to make another plant and another seed and this will go on, over and over again, for years...

With a fine ironic twist, many a master and mistress thus managed to turn the trauma and financial loss of black freedom into deliverance from the chains that had bound them to their black folk. Cornelia Spencer, a prominent resident of Chapel Hill and a future educator, hailed emancipation for the benefits it would bestow upon all whites; slavery, she insisted, had been “an awful drag” on the proper development of the South. “And because I love the white man better than I do the black, I am glad they are free.” Nor could she help but add, “And now I wish they were all in—shall I say Massachusetts?—or Connecticut? Poor things! We are doing what we can for them.

On A. F. Pugh’s plantation, an enterprising former slave accumulated a cartload of articles from several neighboring plantations and bartered them with other blacks in the vicinity; the overseer was powerless to stop this apparently flourishing business based on loot.

After a Richmond slave denounced Jefferson Davis and refused to serve any white man, a local editor demanded that he “be whipped every day until he confesses what white man put these notions in his head.” There had to be an explanation which slaveholding families could accept without in any way compromising their self-esteem or the fundamental conviction that slavery was the best possible condition for black people. To pretend that the Yankees instigated slave aggression and enticed and forced slaves to desert their masters proved to be a highly popular explanation, since it contained a semblance of truth and conveniently evaded the hard questions. “The poor negroes don’t do us any harm except when they are put up to it,” Eliza Andrews thought. “Even when they murdered that white man and quartered him, I believe pernicious teachings were responsible.

Less than two years after the fall of Richmond, a Massachusetts clergyman arrived in the city with the intention of establishing a school to train black ministers. But when he sought a building for his school, he encountered considerable resistance, until he met Mary Ann Lumpkin, the black wife of the former slave dealer. She offered to lease him Lumpkin’s Jail. With unconcealed enthusiasm, black workers knocked out the cells, removed the iron bars from the windows, and refashioned the old jail as a school for ministers and freedmen alike. Before long, children and adults entered the doors of the new school, some of them recalling that this was not their first visit to the familiar brick building.

I have been with them a great deal,” he wrote from Louisiana, “and never before saw so much of gloom, despondency, and listlessness. I saw no banjo, heard none but solemn songs. In church or on the street they impress me with a great sadness. They are a sombre, not a happy, race.” Several weeks later, when his regiment was encamped near Baton Rouge, he attended a black religious service and described the “mingled excitement and devotion,” the shouting, the clapping of hands, the jumping, the often wild and excited singing. It all impressed him, however, as “a mournful joy,” and the hymns seemed “more a loud wail than a burst of joyous melody.

As I was going along this afternoon,” a young Massachusetts officer wrote from New Orleans, “a little black baby that could just walk got under my feet and it look so much like a big worm that I wanted to step on it and crush it, the nasty, greasy little vermin was the best that could be said of it.” And if anything, additional exposure to blacks appeared to strengthen rather than allay racial antipathies. “My repugnance to them increases with the acquaintance,” a New England officer remarked. “Republican as I am, keep me clear of the darkey in any relation.” Praying for an early end to the war, a Union soldier stationed in Missouri declared that he had had his fill of colored people. “I never want to see one of the animals after I leave here.”51

when her master’s son returned and ordered the slaves to destroy the cotton lest it fall into the hands of the Union Army, they refused to cooperate. “Why for we burn de cotton?” they asked. “Where we get money then for buy clo’ and shoes and salt?” Rather than burn the cotton, the slaves took turns guarding it, “the women keeping watch and the men ready to defend it when the watchers gave the alarm.” In some instances, however, slaves who resisted removal were shot down, even burned to death in the cotton houses. On Edisto Island, where a Confederate raiding party had tried to remove some blacks, “the women fought so violently when they were taking off the men,” a white Charlestonian wrote, “that they were obliged to shoot some of them.”18

But the slave’s perception of his master and mistress, based on years of close observation, and the information he gathered from a variety of alternative sources provided ample grounds for skepticism if not outright disbelief. Even with a limited access to the news, many slaves dismissed the atrocity stories because they simply made no sense. “Massa can’t come dat over we,” a Georgia slave told a Union officer; “we know’d a heap better. What for de Yankees want to hurt black men? Massa hates de Yankees, and he’s no fren’ ter we; so we am de Yankee bi’s fren’s.

I opened the box and a surprisingly heavy black meteorite fell into my palm, the names Leon & Elise carved into it and making my fingers tingle with magic as I traced them over it. "That’s like, honest to the stars solid good luck you're holding, little monster," Leo said, in a low voice just for me as he reached out to tuck a lock of my lilac hair behind my ear. "Because you've had way too much bad luck in life and I want that to change for you more than anything in the world. I want you to know that I'm always on your side and fighting your corner and that I'll back you in anything and everything until the bitter end.

The only policy covering the musicians was one the Blacks and White Star took out jointly from the recently established (1907) Legal Insurance Company, but it soon transpired that the insurers were quibbling over the scope of the word dependent. Wives and children were obviously dependents, but could working fathers, such as Andrew Hume and Ronald Brailey, honestly describe themselves as such? This meant that neither of the two main parties—White Star and the Black brothers—was making immediate contributions to the families. Outraged by this, three of the fathers—Leon Bricoux, Andrew Hume, and Ronald Brailey—mounted a legal case against C. W. & F. N. Black in June 1912, arguing that as workers who had lost their lives while carrying out their duties and through no fault of their own, their sons should be covered by the strictures of the Workmen’s Compensation Act. There had never been any suggestion that they’d brought about their fate through negligence or misbehavior.

Imperial domination spread. Slaves were the precious life-blood of the West Indian economy, where King Sugar reigned and in which £70 million had been invested by 1790. Under the asiento, British slave-traders transported a million and a half Africans to the Caribbean during the century: ‘All this great increase in our treasure,’ wrote Joshua Gee in 1729, ‘proceeds chiefly from the labour of negroes in the plantations.’ West African gold gave England the guinea. In 1787, Sierra Leone in West Africa was set up as a trial settlement of free blacks, as was New South Wales from 1788 for transported criminal whites. The future of English society was irreversibly being skewed by empire.

The Environmental Movement’s Retreat from Advocating U.S. Population Stabilization (1970–1998): A First Draft of History by Roy Beck and Leon Kolankiewicz The overwhelmingly non-Hispanic, white leadership of the environmental movement may have felt it was defensible to address population growth as long as the great bulk of this growth came from non-Hispanic whites, which it did during the Baby Boom. But the situation changed dramatically after1972. From that year forward, the fertility of non-Hispanic whites was below the replacement rate, while that of black Americans and Latinos remained well above the replacement rate. To talk of fertility reductions after 1972 was to draw disproportionate attention to nonwhites. Certain minorities and their spokespersons—with long memories of disgraceful treatment by the white majority and acutely aware of their comparative powerlessness in American society—were deeply suspicious of possible hidden agendas in the population stabilization movement. As the Reverend Jesse Jackson told the Rockefeller Commission, “our community is suspect of any programs that would have the effect of either reducing or levelling off our population growth. Virtually all the security we have is in the number of children we produce.” And Manuel Aragon, speaking in Spanish, declared to the Commission: “what we must do is to encourage large Mexican American families so that we will eventually be so numerous that the system will either respond or it will be overwhelmed.” During the twenty-six years after 1972, the non-Hispanic white share of population growth declined significantly from the 1970 era. Thus, by the 1990s, a majority of the nation’s growth stemmed from sources other than non-Hispanic whites (especially Latin American and Asian immigrants and their offspring). Environmentalist leaders—proud and protective of their claim to the moral high ground—may have been reluctant to jeopardize this by venturing into the political minefield of the nation’s volatile racial/ethnic relations through appearing to point fingers at “outsiders,” “others,” or “people of color” as responsible for America’s ongoing problem with population growth.

The State Police car was a standard black Prius Interceptor with that origami-looking bodywork that Leon called go-faster folds.

Managеrs wеrе еvеn knоwn tо film thеir idоls' sеxual activitiеs and usе thе fооtagе against thеm

For example, there were virtually no health-care workers. West Africa had the world’s fewest trained physicians, nurses, and midwives per capita. Liberia had 0.1 doctor per 10,000 citizens, and comparable figures for Sierra Leone and Guinea were 0.2 and 1.0, respectively, as contrasted, for example, with 31.9 doctors per 10,000 in France and 24.5 in the United States.