Let America Be America Again.

The Rain Plays A Little Sleep Song On Our Roof At Night And I Love The Rain.

Politics In Any Country In The World Is Dangerous. For The Poet, Politics In Any Country Had Better Be Disguised As Poetry. Politics Can Be The Graveyard Of The Poet. And Only Poetry Can Be His Resurrection.

What Happens To A Dream Deferred? Does It Dry Up Like A Raisin In The Sun? Or Fester Like A Sore-- And Then Run? Does It Stink Like Rotten Meat? Or Crust And Sugar Over-- Like A Syrupy Sweet? Maybe It Just Sags Like A Heavy Load. Or Does It Explode?

Negroes - Sweet And Docile, Meek, Humble, And Kind: Beware The Day - They Change Their Mind.

The Only Way To Get A Thing Done Is To Start To Do It, Then Keep On Doing It, And Finally You'll Finish It.