I'm lonely I'll make me a world.

I had enjoyed life in Paris, and, taking all things into consideration, enjoyed it wholesomely.

And so for a couple of years my life was divided between my music and my school books.

But I must own that I also felt stirred by an unselfish desire to voice all the joys and sorrows, the hopes and ambitions, of the American Negro, in classic musical form.

When we arrived in London, my sadness at leaving Paris was turned into despair. After my long stay in the French capital, huge, ponderous, massive London seemed to me as ugly a thing as man could contrive to make.

Northern white people love the Negro in a sort of abstract way, as a race; through a sense of justice, charity, and philanthropy, they will liberally assist in his elevation.

My mother was kept very busy with her sewing; sometimes she would have another woman helping her.