Work is the nearest thing to happiness that I can find.
I made up my mind to keep my feelings to myself since they did not seem to matter to anyone else but me.
The game of keeping what one has is never so exciting as the game of getting.
I do not weep at the world I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.
I love myself when I am laughing. . . and then again when I am looking mean and impressive.
If it was so honorable and glorious to be black, why was it the yellow-skinned people among us had so much prestige?