I cannot salute the flag; I know that I am a black man in a white world. In 1972, in 1947, at my birth in 1919, I know that I never had it made.

I am black or white, I'll never be grey in my life.

I am going to stop calling you a white man and I'm going to ask you to stop calling me a black man.

I am the luckiest man in the world.

What am I? Do I know? I am a man: quite simply, a 'breather.'

It kills me to lose. If I'm a troublemaker, and I don't think that my temper makes me one, then it's because I can't stand losing. That's the way I am about winning, all I ever wanted to do was finish first.