Blues Had The Pulse Beat Of The

An Artist Must Be Free To Choose What He Does, Certainly, But He Must Also Never Be Afraid To Do What He Might Choose.

It Is The Duty Of The Younger Negro Artist . . . To Change Through The Force Of His Art That Old Whispering "i Want To Be White," Hidden In The Aspirations Of His People, To "why Should I Want To Be White? I Am A Negro - And Beautiful!"

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

Oh, God Of Dust And Rainbows, Help Us To See That Without The Dust The Rainbow Would Not Be.

Go Home And Write / A Page Tonight. / And Let That Page Come Out Of You - / Then, It Will Be True.