Whatever lives is granted breath But by the grace and sufferance of Death.

[W]e have always resented the natural inclination of most white people to demand spirituals the moment it is known that a Negro is about to sing. So often the request has seemed to savor of the feeling that we could do this and this alone.

We shall not always plant while others reap

We were not made to eternally weep.

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

All day long and all night through, One thing only must I do: Quench my pride and cool my blood, Lest I perish in the flood.

The loss of love is a terrible thing; They lie who say that death is worse.