The sun had become a light yellow yolk and was walking with red legs across the sky.
I am not tragically colored. There is no great sorrow dammed up in my soul, nor lurking behind my eyes. I do not mind at all.
He looked like the love thoughts of women.
If you are silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it.
Affection makes your spirit slither out from its concealing spot.
I do not share the gloomy thought that Negroes in America are doomed to be stomped out bodaciously, nor even shackled to the bottom of things. Of course some of them will be tromped out, and some will always be at the bottom, keeping company with other bottom-folks.