For my best poems were all written when I felt the worst. When I was happy, I didn't write anything.
The rhythm of life is a jazz rhythm
I am a Negro: Black as the night is black, Black like the depths of my Africa.
They [the police] learned something from them Harlem riots. They used to beat your head right in public, but now they only beat it after they get you down to the station house.
Road's in front o' me, Nothin' to do but walk.
I dream a world... where wretchedness will hang its head and joy, like a pearl, attends the needs of all mankind. Of such I dream, my world!