There Is Something About Poverty That Smells

Someone Is Always At My Elbow Reminding Me That I Am The Grand-daughter Of Slaves. It Fails To Register Depression With Me. Slaver Y Is Sixty Years In The Past. The Operation Was Successful And The Patient Is Doing Well, Thank You. The Terrible Struggle That Made Me An American Out Of A Potential Slave Said "on The Line!" The Reconstruction Said "go!" I Am Off To A Flying Start And I Must Not Halt In The Stretch To Look Behind And Weep.

Friendship Is A Mysterious And Ocean-bottom Thing. Who Can Know The Outer Ranges Of It? Perhaps No Human Being Has Ever Explored Its Limits.

Africa Has Her Mouth On Moses.

Oh To Be A Pear Tree – Any Tree In Bloom! With Kissing Bees Singing Of The Beginning Of The World!

It Is So Easy To Be Hopeful In The Daytime When You Can See The Things You Wish On. But It Was Night, It Stayed Night. Night Was Striding Across Nothingness With The Whole Round World In His Hands . . . They Sat In Company With The Others In Other Shanties, Their Eyes Straining Against Cruel Walls And Their Souls Asking If He Meant To Measure Their Puny Might Against His. They Seemed To Be Staring At The Dark, But Their Eyes Were Watching God.