We Negro writers, just by being black, have been on the blacklist all our lives. Censorship for us begins at the color line.

This morning I paid seventy cents for two little old dried-up slivers of bacon and one cockeyed egg. It took me till noon to get my appetite back.

Hard as I try, daddy-o, I really do not like concert singers. They are always singing in some foreign language.

Peace We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark They could not see Who had gained The victory.

I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh, And eat well, And grow strong. Tomorrow, I'll be at the table When company comes. Nobody'll dare Say to me, "Eat in the kitchen," Then. Besides, They'll see how beautiful I am And be ashamed-- I, too, am America.

Never look for a worm in the apple of your eye.

Road's in front o' me, Nothin' to do but walk.