I Feel Most Colored When I Am

The Spirit Of The Marriage Left The Bedroom And Took To Living In The Parlor.

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. I Do Not Belong To The Sobbing School Of Negrohood Who Hold That Nature Somehow Has Given Them A Lowdown Dirty Deal And Whose Feelings Are All Hurt About It. Even In The Helter-skelter Skirmish That Is My Life, I Have Seen That The World Is To The Strong Regardless Of A Little Pigmentation More Or Less. No, I Do Not Weep At The World—i Am Too Busy Sharpening My Oyster Knife.

Love, I Find, Is Like Singing. Everybody Can Do Enough To Satisfy Themselves, Though It May Not Impress The Neighbors As Being Very Much.

I Am Her Friend, And Her Tongue Is In My Mouth. I Can Speak Her Sentiments For Her, Though Ethel Waters Can Do Very Well Indeed In Speaking For Herself.

Please God, Please Suh, Don't Let Him Love Nobody Else But Me. Maybe Ah'm Is Uh Fool, Lawd, Lak Dey Say, But Lawd, Ah Been So Lonesome, And Ah Been Waitin', Jesus. Ah Done Waited Uh Long Time.