Growing up, many of us are taught to place limits on what we can accomplish while on earth. We tend to think of things in binary form: either as possible or, more frequently, impossible.

When you're in survival mode, you numb yourself.

No matter what is happening in your life, you always offer tea.

One of my fondest memories growing up in Rwanda was seeing everyone participating in community-building activities. This happened every Saturday at the end of month. People work together in cleaning streets, planting trees, and take care of each other by facilitating productive conversations and actions that are beneficial for the society.

It occurred to me that memorials shouldn't be grand. If you really want to honor the memory of a tragedy, you shouldn't create areas of calm reflection. You should make people uncomfortable. Put them in the shoes of those who perpetrated and those who suffered. Then ask, would they be able to forgive in these situations?

As a child growing up in refugee camps, life taught me that many things were impossible. My older sister, Claire, taught me otherwise when her strength and resilience made the impossible possible in the way she worked, behaved, and took control of our lives.

There are millions of people, refugees, who have experienced the same conflicts and struggles I did. They have the same potential to defy the odds and achieve great things.

Sharing presumes and creates equality.

I'm still coping with my trauma, but coping by trying to find different ways to heal it rather than hide it.

The world is part of us, and we are part of the world. Even through the smallest acts, we can demonstrate that. I believe in the human spirit, in the kindness in all of us, and I am hopeful for this world.

I want to tap into everyone's senses, to touch on our human sensibility.

We are all neighbors. Be kind. Be gentle.

I truly hope readers learn to believe in their imaginations and their ability to shape their own lives. That's what 'The Girl Who Smiled Beads' means to me.

I was six years old when the conflict started in Rwanda.

Always strive to be a better you for you and for other.

After my final semester at Yale in December of 2013, I made a scary choice. Instead of looking for work - feeling over-read and underweight - that for a few months I would go wherever the wind carried me. I would become a student of the world, and I would eat.

Sharing is wonderful, but giving - I give, you take - often maintains the power status quo.

Forgiveness allowed me to wash my burdened past away.

All that I have achieved has been possible not only because of my own strength and perseverance, gained through hardship, but also through other people's support and belief in me.

There are a lot of great people everywhere. And there are also a lot of not so great people.

My experiences have shown me that when an opportunity bigger than you comes along and you feel unprepared and doubtful, it is important to permit those emotions and let that energy drive you and inspire you to move forward.

My formal speaking career began before a group of 10 third-graders. We drew pictures of my home in Rwanda. I told them about my mother's huge garden and our mango tree. The lessons I taught were simple. Play nicely. Take care of plants. Take care of people.

I want people to know that they are the masters, the queens, kings, and gods of their own story.

Never allow other people to classify you based on your past and current circumstances, where you were born, your experiences, your gender, or your race.

We cannot afford to lose any more people as a result of hatred.

Everything I own in my closet has a story. Stuff is not just stuff - things were given to me with love.

It's taken a lot of years for me to learn how to share my story.

I am not a refugee. I sought refuge for many years, but the word 'refugee' does not define me. It just limits me and puts me in a box.

If we believe that a person seeking refuge is to be pitied, feared, despised, and looked down upon, we are doing ourselves a disservice.

Words will never be enough to quantify and qualify the many magnitudes of human-caused destruction.

The tradition of Umuganda is a beautiful and inspiring one. It connects people to their surrounds and creates a responsible community.

Like many American millennials, an 8th grade field trip first brought me into contact with the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.

Growing up in Kigali, the capital city of Rwanda, I had a wonderful life, one that I have not experienced anywhere since, even after living in nine countries.

I am thankful to those who've listened to my story over and over as well as those who've helped me share it. For me, the act of storytelling is an act of healing.

I'm not a victim - I'm a survivor of hunger, of hate, of different injustices that humans are facing today.

It is so important to share experiences with one another. Humans are so often in their own heads and not looking to others. But we have to realize that we are always invited to be a part of someone else's story - we are together in this.

I was the most tired 11-year-old in the world.

To the young girl who fails to see opportunities around her: Awaken the intellectual curiosity within you. Go on, search for those opportunities and chase after them! Because when you are curious and in 'search mode,' you will meet a lot of people and learn, and when you find opportunities, you will be exhilarated rather than overwhelmed.

Labels and classifications of any type are not law, nor are they written in stone. It's up to us to be aware of this and confront it and break through it by doing things that shock and surprise people because they thought we could never achieve at that level.

We need to examine hatred on a global perspective because hatred is everywhere, and it does not matter who you are: you can be a victim of it anywhere and anytime.

You have this one life. If you keep being selfish and unkind, it's going to come back to you.

I want to listen to people's stories and find strength in them. There is so much human-caused pain and suffering in the world. I want to honor all those difficult experiences and acknowledge their aftermath. At the same time, I want to really see and love the world around me.

'Night' may be one of the most important books that people can read today. It is a story of how hate can slowly take over a society. It shows what happens when people are dehumanized.

My copy of 'Night' is dog-eared. The pages are filled with plastic colored 'flags' that are blue, green, purple, and yellow. Vocabulary is in the margins; phrases and sentences are underlined, some with pencil, and some with pen. Many words are circled.

Elie Wiesel and his book 'Night' have changed my life, shifting the way I see and treat people and inspiring me to fight injustices any way I am able.

Set goals but be flexible.

When you receive an education, you pass it on.

Make your education personal. When it matters to you, you will show up.

The benefits of Umuganda are not merely economic. The day is intended to build community involvement and strengthen cohesion between persons of different background and levels. One such a benefit is that people can access authorities to articulate their needs and voice opinions on various issues.

I never thought that being a public speaker would teach me so much about life and make it so beautiful as well.