Angelou, Maya. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. New York: Random House, 1970. (1969)
From Chapter 14
She said she was going to give me some books and that I not only must read them, I must
read them aloud. She suggested that I try to make a sentence sound in as many different ways
as possible.
“I’ll accept no excuse if you return a book to me that has been badly handled.” My imagination
boggled at the punishment I would deserve if in fact I did abuse a book of Mrs. Flowers’. Death
would be too kind and brief.
The odors in the house surprised me. Somehow I had never connected Mrs. Flowers with food
or eating or any other common experience of common people. There must have been an
outhouse, too, but my mind never recorded it.
The sweet scent of vanilla had met us as she opened the door.
“I made tea cookies this morning. You see, I had planned to invite you for cookies and
lemonade so we could have this little chat. The lemonade is in the icebox.”
It followed that Mrs. Flowers would have ice on an ordinary day, when most families in our
town bought ice late on Saturdays only a few times during the summer to be used in the
wooden ice-cream freezers.
She took the bags from me and disappeared through the kitchen door. I looked around the
room that I had never in my wildest fantasies imagined I would see. Browned photographs
leered or threatened from the walls and the white, freshly done curtains pushed against
themselves and against the wind. I wanted to gobble up the room entire and take it to Bailey,
who would help me analyze and enjoy it.
Sympathy
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
And the river flows like a stream of glass;
When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals—
I know what the caged bird feels!
I know why the caged bird beats its wing
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to his perch and cling
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
And they pulse again with a keener sting—
I know why he beats his wing!
I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,—
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings—
I know why the caged bird sings!
Jess Klein – “The Cloud Song” Lyrics

Songwriters: Jessica Lynn Klein
Said one cloud to the next
How nice that we can rain on the ground
It seems they let water
Wash away their pain
So don't fade out
I will lend you my silver lining
I do not need to dress this proud
Said the daughter to her mother
There are days when I go nowhere
But I know how I got here
Thanks for cheering for me all these years
And don't fade out
I will lend you my silver lining
I do not need to dress this proud
And I would like
To lay my riches down, down
Yeah I would like
To lay my riches down, down, down
Said the smile to the tear
You're the reason I am here
You know it's not everyday
That I have the chance to mean it when I say
Don't fade out
I will lend you my silver lining
I do not need to dress this proud
And I would like
To lay my riches down, down
I would like
To lay my riches down, down
I would like
To lay my riches down, down, down
Gruwell, Erin, editor. The Freedom Writers Diary. Excerpt.
Diary 31- “Ms. Gruwell stood on the desk and began to talk about ‘change.’ I thought, ‘What is
this lady trying to do?’… I guess I was offered an opportunity that not many people have…I
thank God that he sent an angel to give me that chance to change. I was always known as the
person that was going to be a druggie, or get pregnant before I turned fourteen and drop out.
Now I have the chance to prove them wrong.”
Gruwell, Erin, editor. The Freedom Writers Diary. Excerpt.
Diary 36- “At first I asked Ms. G, ‘Why should I read books about people that don’t look like
me? People that I don’t even know and that I am not going to understand because they don’t
understand me?’. . .She looked up and said very calmly, ‘How can you say that? Try it, you
never know. The book may come to life before your eyes.’ So I started reading this book called
Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl because I wanted to prove Ms. G wrong. . .To my
surprise, I proved myself wrong. . .I did find myself within the pages of the book, like she said I
would.”
Quote from Fahrenheit 451