A Quote by Stephen Jackson

If you are walking through the hood and you notice the cracks in the sidewalk where all the weeds, pebbles, dirt and grit settle in, that's me. — © Stephen Jackson
If you are walking through the hood and you notice the cracks in the sidewalk where all the weeds, pebbles, dirt and grit settle in, that's me.
I don't like weeds! My father made me mow weeds and cut weeds when I was a kid. I've hated weeds ever since I was 12 years old. I'll never go in the weeds! I'll never gonna take you in the weeds.
Gratitude is confidence in life itself. In it, we feel how the same force that pushes grass through cracks in the sidewalk invigorates our own life.
When I first started rapping, I was just doing it for the hood to notice me - the hood fame - just to get people's attention around the city, to make me a little show money. But then music became my passion, it got real serious.
It's hard to see your destination when you're focused on the cracks in the sidewalk.
I wandered off, walking through streets that seemed emptier than ever, thinking that if I didn't stop, if I kept on walking, I wouldn't notice that the world I thought I knew was no longer there.
You're paved in my heart like an old road. Like the pebbles in a pebble field, dirt in dirt, dust in dust, cobwebs in cobwebs.
Dirt's a funny thing,' the Boss said. 'Come to think of it, there ain't a thing but dirt on this green God's globe except what's under water, and that's dirt too. It's dirt makes the grass grow. A diamond ain't a thing in the world but a piece of dirt that got awful hot. And God-a-Mighty picked up a handful of dirt and blew on it and made you and me and George Washington and mankind blessed in faculty and apprehension. It all depends on what you do with the dirt. That right?
I'm working on this documentary. It's called 'Walking Home With Baby,' and when I say 'Walking Home With Baby,' it's a hood in Memphis. This is where I come from. This is my hood in Memphis - the South of Memphis.
One bright pansy popping through a sidewalk crack will get weeded or stepped on; it's not until twenty fabulous flowers bust through and the pavement is ruined anyway that someone decides maybe it isn't a sidewalk at all, but a flower garden. So please, for the love of gender--go bloom.
I rarely step on sidewalk cracks. I don't wear a watch. I touch my favorite tree before going on long trips.
If flowers want to grow right out of the concrete sidewalk cracks I'm going to bend down to smell them.
A visit to the hood through a record, or through a video, or through a film, is a lot safer than actually visiting the people in real life. It became a business model. It became a revenue engine that, you know, you can get to the hood without ever going there.
One thing you have to be very careful on when you work in health care is this: when you make a sweeping change, you can't wait to see what falls through the cracks. What could fall through the cracks is somebody's life. You need to move thoughtfully and carefully with a plan incrementally.
Every time something slips through the cracks, the cracks get bigger.
One day I was in an airport rushing to catch a plane. I was sweating and puffing when I looked to my right and saw a man walking half as fast as I was, but going faster. He was walking on a moving sidewalk. When we walk in the Spirit, eh comes underneath us and bears us along. We're still walking, but we walk dependent on him.
“Run,” he whispered. “Run.” “No, Rand,” I said, brushing the dirt from his face. “I’m tired of running.” “Forgive me, please.” He clutched my hand as his eyes beseeched me through tears of pain. “You’re forgiven.” He sighed once, then stopped breathing. The shine in his brown eyes dulled. I pulled his hood over his head.
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