Keep your hand on the plow. Hold on.

Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.

For poems are like rainbows; they escape you quickly.

Believing everything she read In the daily news, (No in-between to choose) She thought that only One side won, Not that BOTH Might lose.

Politics in any country in the world is dangerous. For the poet, politics in any country had better be disguised as poetry. Politics can be the graveyard of the poet. And only poetry can be his resurrection.

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

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!"