Be Careful What You Swallow. Chew!

I've Always Thought Of Myself As A Reporter.

I Swear To Keep The Dead Upon My Mind, / Disdain For All Time To Be Overglad.

The Forties And Fifties Were Years Of High Poet-incense; The Language-flowers Were Thickly Sweet. Those Flowers Whined And Begged White Folks To Pick Them, To Find Them Lovable. Then The '60s: Independent Fire!

I've Always Thought Of Myself As A Reporter. When People Ask Why I Don't Stop Writing, I Say, `look At What's Happening In This World. Every Day There's Something Exciting Or Disturbing To Write About.’ With All That's Going On, How Could I Stop?

Don't Let Anyone Call You A Minority If You're Black Or Hispanic Or Belong To Some Other Ethnic Group. You're Not Less Than Anybody Else.