Gods Always Love The People

Once You Wake Up Thought In A Man, You Can Never Put It To Sleep Again.

I Am Not Tragically Colored. There Is No Great Sorrow Dammed Up In My Soul, Nor Lurking Behind My Eyes. I Do Not Mind At All. I Do Not Belong To The Sobbing School Of Negrohood Who Hold That Nature Somehow Has Given Them A Lowdown Dirty Deal And Whose Feelings Are All Hurt About It. Even In The Helter-skelter Skirmish That Is My Life, I Have Seen That The World Is To The Strong Regardless Of A Little Pigmentation More Or Less. No, I Do Not Weep At The World—i Am Too Busy Sharpening My Oyster Knife.

Gods Always Love The People Who Make 'em.

When A Man Keeps Beating Me To The Draw Mentally, He Begins To Get Glamorous.

I Feel Most Colored When I Am Thrown Against A Sharp White Background.