Good morning, Revolution: You're the very best friend I ever had. We gonna pal around together from now on

I will not take "but" for an answer.

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!"

What happens to a dream deferred?

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.

I swear to the Lord, I still can't see, why Democracy means, everybody but me.

There is no color line in art.