The Rhythm Of Life Is

Like A Welcome Summer Rain, Humor May Suddenly Cleanse And Cool The Earth, The Air And You.

It's Such A Bore Being Always Poor.

Out Of Love, No Regrets-- Though The Goodness Be Wasted Forever. Out Of Love, No Regrets-- Though The Return Be Never.

I Swear To The Lord, I Still Can't See, Why Democracy Means, Everybody But Me.

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.