All day long and all night through, One thing only must I do: Quench my pride and cool my blood, Lest I perish in the flood.
Not for myself I make this prayer, But for this race of mine That stretches forth from shadowed places Dark hands for bread and wine.
Yet do I marvel at this curious thing:/ To make a poet black, and bid him sing!
Give but a grain of the heart's rich seed, Confine some under cover, And when love goes, bid him God-speed. And find another lover.
I have a rendezvous with life.
The key to all strange things is in thy heart..../ My spirit has come home, that sailed the doubtful seas.
What is Africa to me: Copper sun or scarlet sea, Jungle star or jungle track, Strong bronzed men, or regal black Women from whose loins I sprang When the birds of Eden sang?
I was reared in the conservative atmosphere of a Methodist parsonage.
There is no secret to success except hard work and getting something indefinable which we call 'the breaks.
The truth is... everything counts. Everything. Everything we do and everything we say. Everything helps or hurts; everything adds to or takes away from someone else.
Last Update: 1 October 2022
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