It is the duty of the younger Negro artist . . . to change through the force of his art that old whispering "I want to be white," hidden in the aspirations of his people, to "Why should I want to be white? I am a Negro - and beautiful!"

Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be.

What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? ... Or does it explode?

I am a Negro: Black as the night is black, Black like the depths of my Africa.

Looks like what drives me crazy Don't have no effect on you-- But I'm gonna keep on at it Till it drives you crazy, too.

Americans of good-will, the nice decent church people, the well-meaning liberals, the good hearted souls who themselves wouldn't lynch anyone, must begin to realize that they have to be more than passively good-hearted, more than church goingly Christian, and much more than word-of-mouth in the liberalism.

Oh, God of Dust and Rainbows, Help us to see That without the dust the rainbow Would not be.