At lilac evening I walked with every muscle aching among the lights of 27th and Welton in the Denver colored section, wishing I were a Negro, feeling that the best the white world had offered was not enough ecstasy for me, not enough life, joy, kicks, darkness, music, not enough night.

I felt like lying down by the side of the trail and remembering it all

It is possible for the human spirit to win after all.

Because I cannot write my native language and have no native home anymore, and am amazed by that horrible homelessness of all French-Canadian s abroad in America.

I petted the dogs who didn't argue with me ever. All dogs love God. They're wiser than their masters.

Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life.

It's hard to explain and best thing to do is not be false.