Crimes Of Which A People

Anyone Who Knows A Strange Fact Shares In Its Singularity.

There Are Mornings When All Men Experience With Fatigue A Flush Of Tenderness That Makes Them Horny.

I Decided To Be What Crime Made Of Me.

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.

By Stretching Language We'll Distort It Sufficiently To Wrap Ourselves In It And Hide.