The Price Of Hating Other Human Beings

If A Man Like Malcolm X Could Change And Repudiate Racism, If I Myself And Other Former Muslims Can Change, If Young Whites Can Change, Then There Is Hope For America.

And Why Does It Make You Sad To See How Everything Hangs By Such Thin And Whimsical Threads? Because You’re A Dreamer, An Incredible Dreamer, With A Tiny Spark Hidden Somewhere Inside You Which Cannot Die, Which Even You Cannot Kill Or Quench And Which Tortures You Horribly Because All The Odds Are Against Its Continual Burning. In The Midst Of The Foulest Decay And Putrid Savagery, This Spark Speaks To You Of Beauty, Of Human Warmth And Kindness, Of Goodness, Of Greatness, Of Heroism, Of Martyrdom, And It Speaks To You Of Love.

Americans Think Of Themselves Collectively As A Huge Rescue Squad On Twenty-four Hour Call To Any Spot On The Globe Where Dispute And Conflict May Erupt.

I Have Lived Those Lines And I Know That If I Had Not Been Apprehended I Would Have Slit Some White Throats.

Respect Commands Itself And Can Neither Be Given Nor Withheld When It Is Due.