Life dosent frighten me at all.

I've known rivers: I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of human blood in human veins. My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

Like a welcome summer rain, humor may suddenly cleanse and cool the earth, the air and you.

What happens to a dream deferred?

Everybody should take each other as they are, white, black, Indians, Creole. Then there would be no prejudice, nations would get along.

What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore-- And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over-- like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. Or does it explode?

Negroes - Sweet and docile, Meek, humble, and kind: Beware the day - They change their mind.