The Rain Plays A Little

The Rhythm Of Life Is A Jazz Rhythm

This Is The Mountain Standing In The Way Of Any True Negro Art In America - This Urge Within The Race Toward Whiteness, The Desire To Pour Racial Individuality Into The Mold Of American Standardization, And To Be As Little Negro And As Much American As Possible.

Because My Mouth Is Wide With Laughter And My Throat Is Deep With Song, You Do Not Think I Suffer After I Have Held My Pain So Long? Because My Mouth Is Wide With Laughter You Do Not Hear My Inner Cry? Because My Feet Are Gay With Dancing You Do Not Know I Die?

What Happens To A Dream Deferred? Does It Dry Up Like A Raisin In The Sun? ... Or Does It Explode?

I Am The Darker Brother. They Send Me To Eat In The Kitchen When Company Comes, But I Laugh, And Eat Well, And Grow Strong.