The Artist Must Elect To Fight For

The Man Who Accepts Western Values Absolutely, Finds His Creative Faculties Becoming So Warped And Stunted That He Is Almost Completely Dependent On External Satisfactions, And The Moment He Becomes Frustrated In His Search For These, He Begins To Develop Neurotic Symptoms, To Feel That Life Is Not Worth Living, And, In Chronic Cases, To Take His Own Life.

Why Should The Negroes Ever Fight Against The Only Nations Of The World Where Racial Discrimination Is Prohibited, And Where The People Can Live Freely? Never! I Can Assure You, They Will Never Fight Against Either The Soviet Union Or The Peoples' Democracies.

We Must Join With The Tens Of Millions All Over The World Who See In Peace Our Most Sacred Responsibility.

I've Learned That My People Are Not The Only Ones Oppressed... I Have Sung My Songs All Over The World And Everywhere Found That Some Common Bond Makes The People Of All Lands Take To Negro Songs As Their Own.

The Talents Of An Artist, Small Or Great, Are God-given. They've Nothing To Do With The Private Person; They're Nothing To Be Proud Of. They're Just A Sacred Trust... Having Been Given, I Must Give. Man Shall Not Live By Bread Alone, And What The Farmer Does I Must Do. I Must Feed The People - With My Songs.