We Shall Not Always Plant While Others

Yet Do I Marvel At This Curious Thing:/ To Make A Poet Black, And Bid Him Sing!

If I Am Going To Be A Poet At All, I Am Going To Be Poet And Not Negro Poet.

For We Must Be One Thing Or The Other, An Asset Or A Liability, The Sinew In Your Wing To Help You Soar, Or The Chain To Bind You To Earth.

Whatever Lives Is Granted Breath But By The Grace And Sufferance Of Death.

Africa? A Book One Thumbs Listlessly, Till Slumber Comes.