Today I Must Write A

I Wanted To Be A Writer. I Wanted To Say Something About Home.

The Sharecropper May Lower His Eyes, But Not Because He's Less Of A Man. That's Just A Condition Of Society That Such Things Exist.

And I Thought To Myself, What Am I Doing? Am I Reaching Them At All? They Are Acting Exactly As The Old Men Did Earlier. They Are Fifty Years Younger, Maybe More, But Doing The Same Thing Those Old Men Did Who Never Attended School A Day In Their Lives. Is It Just A Vicious Circle? Am I Doing Anything?

I Still Don't Even Know If The Sheriff Will Let Me See Him. And Suppose He Did; What Then? What Do I Say To Him? Do I Know What A Man Is? Do I Know How A Man Is Supposed To Die? I'm Still Trying To Find Out How A Man Should Live. Am I Supposed To Tell Someone How To Die Who Has Never Lived?

Today I Must Write A Paragraph Or A Page Better Than I Did Yesterday.