Never Love With All Your Heart, It

What Is Africa To Me: Copper Sun Or Scarlet Sea, Jungle Star Or Jungle Track, Strong Bronzed Men, Or Regal Black Women From Whose Loins I Sprang When The Birds Of Eden Sang?

The Loss Of Love Is A Terrible Thing; They Lie Who Say That Death Is Worse.

Death Cut The Strings That Gave Me Life, And Handed Me To Sorrow, The Only Kind Of Middle Wife My Folks Could Beg Or Borrow.

I Have A Rendezvous With Life.

There Is No Secret To Success Except Hard Work And Getting Something Indefinable Which We Call 'the Breaks.