Nature Was My Kindergarten.

Where The Tennessee River, Like A Silver Snake, Winds Her Way Through The Clay Hills Of Alabama, Sits High On These Hills, My Home Town, Florence.

I Think America Concedes That True American Music Has Sprung From The Negro.

You Can Never Tell What's In A Woman's Mind, And If She's From Harlem, There's No Use O' Tryin

Saving Was Slow And Painful.

If My Serenade Of Song And Story Should Serve As A Pillow For Some Composer's Head, As Yet Perhaps Unborn, To Dream And Build On Our Fond Melodies In His Tomorrow, I Have Not Labored In Vain.