Every Tub Sits On Its Bottom.

I Have Been In Sorrow's Kitchen And Licked Out All The Pots. Then I Have Stood On The Peaky Mountain Wrapped In Rainbows, With A Harp And Sword In My Hands.

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.

I Thought That When They Said Atlantic Charter, That Meant Me And Everybody In Africa And Asia And Everywhere. But It Seems Like The Atlantic Is An Ocean That Does Not Touch Anywhere But North America And Europe.

The Present Was An Egg Laid By The Past That Had The Future Inside Its Shell.

I Maintain That I Have Been A Negro Three Times--a Negro Baby, A Negro Girl And A Negro Woman. Still, If You Have Received No Clear Cut Impression Of What The Negro In America Is Like, Then You Are In The Same Place With Me. There Is No The Negro Here. Our Lives Are So Diversified, Internal Attitudes So Varied, Appearances And Capabilities So Different, That There Is No Possible Classification So Catholic That It Will Cover Us All, Except My People! My People!