Keep Your Hand On The Plow. Hold

Keep Your Hand On The Plow. Hold On.

Life Is A Big Sea Full Of Many Fish. I Let Down My Nets And Pulled. I'm Still Pulling.

Peace We Passed Their Graves: The Dead Men There, Winners Or Losers, Did Not Care. In The Dark They Could Not See Who Had Gained The Victory.

Money And Art Are Far Apart.

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.