Yellow Quotes - page 20
The first start I ever got in the big leagues was in Pittsburgh for the last three games in 1967. I knew Dock Ellis and I met Clemente through him. We talked every time we met in the following years. He gave me a few pointers. I felt if a guy like Roberto could tell you something, it was wise to listen. I always like to talk to outstanding players about hitting – Roberto Clemente, Joe Torre, Tommy Davis. Guys who have the same hitting style as I do. But I remember Roberto for one thing he did with his glove, not his bat. In 1971, he took a home run away from me here in the Dome. Steve Blass was pitching and we were behind, 1-0, in the ninth. Joe Morgan walked and I hit a ball to right that was going over the yellow line. I know the game is tied for sure. If [it's gone], we win. But Clemente went head-on into the wall, and fell to the ground, almost on his neck. He was motionless. Al Oliver came over and took the ball out of his glove. I couldn't believe he caught the ball.
Roberto Clemente
Well, as you know, I was blessed to do over a hundred events for my dear brother [Bernie Sanders]. And this is the first time I've had a chance to publicly endorse him again, but yes, indeed. I'll be in his corner that we're going to win this time. And it has to do with the Martin Luther King like criteria of assessing a candidate namely the issues of militarism, poverty, materialism, and racism, xenophobia in all of its forms that includes any kind of racism as you know against black people, brown people, yellow people, anybody, Arabs, Muslims, Jews, Palestinians, Kashmirians, Tibetans and so forth. So that there's no doubt that the my dear brother Bernie stands shoulders above any of the other candidates running in the Democratic primary when it comes to that Martin Luther King-like standards or criteria.
Cornel West
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,
Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,
Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou,
Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed
The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low,
Each like a corpse within its grave, until
Thine azure sister of the spring shall blow
Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth.
Percy Bysshe Shelley