I loved my friend He went away from me There's nothing more to say The poem ends, Soft as it began- I loved my friend.

Negro blood is sure powerful, because just one drop of black blood makes a colored man. One drop--you are a Negro! . . . Black is powerful.

I got the Weary Blues And I can't be satisfied.

When poems stop talking about the moon and begin to mention poverty, trade unions, color, color lines and colonies, somebody tells the police.

Humor is when the joke's on you but hits the other fellow first -- before it boomerangs.

To create a market for your writing you have to be consistent, professional, a continuing writer - not just a one-article or a one-story or a one-book man.

It has seemed to me that most people are generally good, in every race and in every country where I have been.