People Can Be Slave-ships In

You'se Something Tuh Make Uh Man Forgit To Git Old And Forgit Tuh Die.

Like The Dead-seeming, Cold Rocks, I Have Memories Within That Came Out Of The Material That Went To Make Me. Time And Place Have Had Their Say.

Here Was Peace. She Pulled In Her Horizon Like A Great Fish-net. Pulled It From Around The Waist Of The World And Draped It Over Her Shoulder. So Much Of Life In Its Meshes! She Called In Her Soul To Come And See.

Tain't No Use In You Cryin' . . . But Folks Is Meant To Cry 'bout Somethin' Or Other. Better Leave Things De Way Dey Is. Youse Young Yet. No Tellin' Whut Mout Happen Befo' You Die.

I Do Not Share The Gloomy Thought That Negroes In America Are Doomed To Be Stomped Out Bodaciously, Nor Even Shackled To The Bottom Of Things. Of Course Some Of Them Will Be Tromped Out, And Some Will Always Be At The Bottom, Keeping Company With Other Bottom-folks.