Violence Is A Calm That Disturbs You.

What I Did Not Yet Know So Intensely Was The Hatred Of The White American For The Black, A Hatred So Deep That I Wonder If Every White Man In This Country, When He Plants A Tree, Doesn't See Negroes Hanging From Its Branches.

Crimes Of Which A People Is Ashamed Constitute Its Real History. The Same Is True Of Man.

Worse Than Not Realizing The Dreams Of Your Youth, Would Be To Have Been Young And Never Dreamed At All.

Limited By The World, Which I Oppose, Jagged By It, I Shall Be All The More Handsome And Sparkling As The Angles Which Wound Me And Give Me Shape Are More Acute And The Jagging More Cruel.

Solitude, As I Understand It, Does Not Signify An Unhappy State, But Rather Secret Royalty, Profound Incommunicability Yet A More Or Less Obscure Knowledge Of An Invulnerable Singularity.