I don't consider myself a person of fashion because it's too sophisticated. My thing is I look at style like swagger. I like things that pull me, that I gravitate to.

CHILDHOOD IS THAT STATE WHICH ENDS THE MOMENT A PUDDLE IS FIRST VIEWED AS AN OBSTACLE INSTEAD OF AN OPPORTUNITY

I use my job to engage empathy and compassion for people society might stereotype or ostricise.

Our criminal justice system has swallowed up too many people I love.

Revenge is not a positive state of mind or energy to indulge your self in.

No one wakes up one day and decides they want to become a drug dealer or they want to be a stick-up kid. Those decisions are made after a series of events have happened in one's life.

I haven't had a problem with being typecast, but if I was only getting one type of role, I wouldn't mind. What I'm worried about is not working.

You know, my childhood was pretty colorful; I like to use the word turbulent.

Having been through the muck and mire, I've had my own brush with bad choices.

I do happen to love Honey Nut Cheerios. I don't know if I want to walk down to the store in my pajamas for them. But I do love them.

You know, Tupac is very near and dear to my heart. He started my career as an actor.

He studied with the guru of rock n’ roll, Baba Oom Mow Mow, who taught his own version of the Golden Rule: "Do wop unto others as you would have them do wop unto you.

I travel back in time, falling back into what I know for certain, the historical data I cling to in order to not go mad, not assume I made a suicidal and well-informed error in marrying this man.

Thou art the thing itself: unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor bare, forked animal as thou art.

True luxury is being able to own your time - to be able to take a walk, sit on your porch, read the paper, not take the call, not be compelled by obligation.

Whenever you see a man who is successful in society, try to discover what makes him pleasing, and if possible adopt his system.

If criticism had any power to harm, the skunk would be extinct by now.

I made a mental note to watch which bottle became empty soonest, sometimes a more telling evaluation system than any other.

I, personally, have found reading a continual support to writing.

Blame it or praise it, there is no denying the wild horse in us.

I grow numb; I grow stiff. How shall I break up this numbness which discredits my sympathetic heart?