Maya Angelou’s Advice if you’re tired of life

Everyone in the world has gone to bed one night or another with fear or pain or loss or disappointment. And yet each of us has awakened, arisen, somehow made our ablutions, seen other human beings and said, "Morning, how are you? Find thanks in you." It's amazing, wherever that abides in the human being, There is the nobleness of the human spirit. Despite it all, black and white, Asian, Spanish, Native American, pretty, plain, thin, fat, vowed or celibate, we rise.

You may write me down in history with your bitter twisted lies. You may trod me in the very dirt, but still like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? 'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells pumping in my living room.

Just like moon and suns with the certainty of tides, just like hopes and springing high, still I rise.

Did you want to see me broken, bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops, weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you? Don't you take it awful hard, 'cause I laugh like I've got gold mines digging in my own backyard.

You can shoot me with your words, you can cut me with your lies, you can kill me with your hatefulness, but just like life, I rise.

Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise that I dance Like I've got diamonds at the meeting of my thighs.

Out of the huts of history's shame, I rise.

Up from a past that is rooted in pain, I rise. I'm a black ocean leaping and wide, welling and swelling. I bear in the tide, leaving behind nights of terror and fear.

I rise into a daybreak miraculously clear. I rise.

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I rise.

I am the hope and the dream of the slave. And so— wow! There go rising.