I hope there is something worthy in my writings and not merely the novelty of a black face associated with the power to rhyme that has attracted attention.

..we wear the mask that grins and lies, it hides our cheeks and shades our eyes- this debt we pay to human guile; with torn and bleeding hearts we smile.

Poor conceited humanity! Interpreters of God indeed.

People are taking it for granted that [the Negro] ought not to work with his head. And it is so easy for these people among whom we are living to believe this; it flatters and satisfies their self-complacency.

The age is materialistic. Verse isn't. I must be with the age, so I am writing prose.

I hope there is something worthy in my writings and not merely the novelty of a black face associated with the power to rhyme that has attracted attention.

Only the rich are lonesome.