Ignorance is a cure for nothing.

One reads the truer deeper facts of Reconstruction with a great despair. It is at once so simple and human, and yet so futile. There is no villain, no idiot, no saint. There are just men; men who crave ease and power, men who know want and hunger, men who have crawled. They all dream and strive with ecstasy of fear and strain of effort, balked of hope and hate. Yet the rich world is wide enough for all, wants all, needs all. So slight a gesture, a word, might set the strife in order, not with full content, but with growing dawn of fulfillment. Instead roars the crash of hell.

The world is shrinking together; it is finding itself neighbor to itself in strange, almost magic degree.

The true college will ever have but one goal - not to earn meat, but to know the end and aim of that life which meat nourishes.

Would America have been America without her Negro people?

I have loved my work, I have loved people and my play, but always I have been uplifted by the thought that what I have done well will live long and justify my life, that what I have done ill or never finished can now be handed on to others for endless days to be finished, perhaps better than I could have done.

To the real question, How does it feel to be a problem? I answer seldom a word.