Sometimes I feel like nothin,’ somethin’ throwed away, Somethin’ throwed away. — William Christopher Handy
A lean, loose-jointed Negro had commenced plunking a guitar beside me while — William Christopher Handy
Life is like a trumpet – if you don’t put anything into it, you don’t get anything out of it. — William Christopher Handy
I think america concedes that true american music has sprung from the negro. — William Christopher Handy
Life is something like a trumpet. If you don’t put anything in, you won’t get anything out. — William Christopher Handy
You’ve got to appreciate the things that come from the art of the negro and from — William Christopher Handy
Whenever I heard the song of a bird and the answering call of its mate, I could visualize — William Christopher Handy
The name of my ailment was longing, and it was not cured till I finally went to — William Christopher Handy
Setting my mind on a musical instrument was like falling in love. All the world seemed bright and changed. — William Christopher Handy