Melting pot Harlem-Harlem of honey and chocolate and caramel and rum and vinegar and lemon and lime and gall. Dusky dream Harlem rumbling into a nightmare tunnel where the subway from the Bronx keeps right on downtown.

Blues had the pulse beat of the people who keep on going.

Anyday, one can walk down the street in a big city and see a thousand people. Any photographer can photograph these people - but very few photographers can make their prints not only reproductions of the people taken, but a comment upon them - or more, a comment upon their lives - or more still, a comment upon the social order that creates these lives.

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

The depression brought everybody down a peg or two. And the Negroes had but few pegs to fall.

It's such a Bore Being always Poor.

Like a welcome summer rain, humor may suddenly cleanse and cool the earth, the air and you.