For The Beloved Should Not

I, The Man Of Color, Want Only This: That The Tool Never Possess The Man. That The Enslavement Of Man By Man Cease Forever. That Is, Of One By Another. That It Be Possible For Me To Discover And To Love Man, Wherever He May Be.

The Living Expression Of The Nation Is The Collective Consciousness In Motion Of The Entire People.

For Europe, For Ourselves And For Humanity, Comrades, We Must Turn Over A New Leaf, We Must Work Out New Concepts, And Try To Set Afoot A New Man.

The Negro Enslaved By His Inferiority, The White Man Enslaved By His Superiority Alike Behave In Accordance With A Neurotic Orientation.

I Am Black; I Am In Total Fusion With The World, In Sympathetic Affinity With The Earth, Losing My Id In The Heart Of The Cosmos -- And The White Man, However Intelligent He May Be, Is Incapable Of Understanding Louis Armstrong Or Songs From The Congo. I Am Black, Not Because Of A Curse, But Because My Skin Has Been Able To Capture All The Cosmic Effluvia. I Am Truly A Drop Of Sun Under The Earth.