There are few things under heaven more unnerving than the silent, accumulating contempt and hatred of a people.

An American Negro, however deep his sympathies, or however bright his rage, ceases to be simply a black man when he faces a black man from Africa.

It is a great shock at the age of five or six to find that in a world of Gary Coopers you are the Indian.

A child cannot be taught by anyone who despises him, and a child cannot afford to be fooled.

A writer has to take all the risks of putting down what he sees. No one can tell him about that. No one can control that reality. It reminds me of something Pablo Picasso was supposed to have said to Gertrude Stein while he was painting her portrait. Gertrude said, “I don’t look like that.” And Picasso replied, “You will.” And he was right.

There is no reason for you to try to become like white people and there is no basis whatever for their impertinent assumption that *they* must accept *you*. The really terrible thing, old buddy, is that you must accept them. And I mean that very seriously. You must accept them and accept them with love.

You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read.