I Will Not Take "but" For An

What Happens To A Dream Deferred?

I Did Not Believe Political Directives Could Be Successfully Applied To Creative Writing . . . Not To Poetry Or Fiction, Which To Be Valid Had To Express As Truthfully As Possible The Individual Emotions And Reactions Of The Writer.

What Happens To A Dream Deferred? Does It Dry Up Like A Raisin In The Sun? Or Fester Like A Sore-- And Then Run? Does It Stink Like Rotten Meat? Or Crust And Sugar Over-- Like A Syrupy Sweet? Maybe It Just Sags Like A Heavy Load. Or Does It Explode?

The Rhythm Of Life Is A Jazz Rhythm

Politics Can Be The Graveyard Of The Poet. And Only Poetry Can Be His Resurrection.