e, love and survival. As Angelou says of her life adventures that turn hope into art, “There are no natural writers, but there are natural rememberers” (Weaver G-10).
Angelou’s last installment in her autobiography series is titled with the first line from her first installment, “A song flung up to heaven.” By an examination of interviews with Angelou and commentary from critical interpretations, I think I now know the answer of why the caged bird sings. The cage bird si
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