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At The Bottom Of The Social Heap Is The Black Man In The Big-city Ghetto. He Lives Night And Day With The Rats And The Cockroaches And Drowns Himself With Alcohol And Anesthetizes Himself With Dope, To Try And Forget Where And What He Is. That Negro Has Given Up All Hope. He's The Hardest One For Us To Reach, Because He's The Deepest In The Mud. But When You Get Him, You've Got The Best Kind Of Muslim. I Look Upon Myself As A Prime Example Of This Category - As Graphic An Example As You Could Find Of The Salvation Of The Black Man.

When We Send Our Children To School, They Learn Nothing About Us Other Than We Used To Be Cotton Pickers. Why, Your Grandfather Was Nat Turner; Your Grandfather Was Toussaint L'ouverture; Your Grandfather Was Hannibal. It Was Your Grandfather's Hands Who Forged Civilization And It Was Your Grandmother's Hands Who Rocked The Cradle Of Civilization. But The Textbooks Tell Our Children Nothing.

In Harlem, For Instance, All Of The Stores Are Owned By White People, All Of The Buildings Are Owned By White People. The Black People Are Just There - Paying Rent, Buying The Groceries; But They Don't Own The Stores, Clothing Stores, Food Stores, Any Kind Of Stores; Don't Even Own The Homes That They Live In. They Are All Owned By Outsiders, And For These Run-down Apartment Dwellings, The Black Man In Harlem Pays More Money Than The Man Down In The Rich Park Avenue Section.

I Was Going Through The Hardest Thing, Also The Greatest Thing, For Any Human Being To Do; To Accept That Which Is Already Within You, And Around You.

You Know, If Ever There Was A People Who Should Know How To Practice Brotherhood, It Is The American Negro And It Is The People Of Egypt.