I was reared in the conservative atmosphere of a Methodist parsonage.

Yet do I marvel at this curious thing:/ To make a poet black, and bid him sing!

There is no secret to success except hard work and getting something indefinable which we call 'the breaks.

Not for myself I make this prayer, But for this race of mine That stretches forth from shadowed places Dark hands for bread and wine.

If I am going to be a poet at all, I am going to be POET and not NEGRO POET.

The truth is... everything counts. Everything. Everything we do and everything we say. Everything helps or hurts; everything adds to or takes away from someone else.

We shall not always plant while others reap