I see America, not in the setting sun of a black night of despair ahead of us, I see America in the crimson light of a rising sun fresh from the burning, creative hand of God. I see great days ahead, great days possible to men and women of will and vision.
Slang is a language that rolls up its sleeves, spits on its hands and goes to work.
A book is never a masterpiece: it becomes one. Genius is the talent of a dead man.
The greatest cunning is to have none at all.
What else have I done nearly all my life than go hungry and go on singing?
Lips half-willing in a doorway. Lips half-singing at a window. Eyes half-dreaming in the walls. Feet half-dancing in a kitchen. Even the clocks half-yawn the hours And the farmers make half-answers.