It'll Be The Ballot Or The Bullet.

Yes, I'm An Extremist. The Black Race Here In North America Is In Extremely Bad Condition. You Show Me A Black Man Who Isn't An Extremist And I'll Show You One Who Needs Psychiatric Attention.

When The Thing Is Finally Sparked, The White Man Is Not There - He's Gone. The Merchant Is Not There, The Landlord Is Not There, The One They Consider To Be The Enemy Isn't There. So, They Knock At His Property. This Is What Makes Them Knock Down The Store Windows And Set Fire To Things, And Things Of That Sort.

Abraham Lincoln Was Interested In, In Saving The Union. Well, Most Negroes Have Been Tricked Into Thinking That Lincoln Was A Negro Lover Whose Primary Aim Was To Free Them, And He Died Because He Freed Them.

I Learned Early That Crying Out In Protest Could Accomplish Things. My Older Brothers And Sister Had Started To School When, Sometimes, They Would Come In And Ask For A Buttered Biscuit Or Something And My Mother, Impatiently, Would Tell Them No. But I Would Cry Out And Make A Fuss Until I Got What I Wanted. I Remember Well How My Mother Asked Me Why I Couldn't Be A Nice Boy Like Wilfred; But I Would Think To Myself That Wilfred, For Being So Nice And Quiet, Often Stayed Hungry. So Early In Life, I Had Learned That If You Want Something, You Had Better Make Some Noise.

The Day That The Black Man Takes An Uncompromising Step And Realizes That He's Within His Rights, When His Own Freedom Is Being Jeopardized, To Use Any Means Necessary To Bring About His Freedom Or Put A Halt To That Injustice, I Don't Think He'll Be By Himself.