Dame Poverty Gave Me My Name, And

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?

The Night Whose Sable Breast Relieves The Stark, White Stars, Is No Less Lovely Being Dark

My Poetry Has Become The Way Of My Giving Out What Music Is Within Me.

Lord, I Fashion Dark Gods, Too, Daring Even To Give You Dark Despairing Features

[w]e Have Always Resented The Natural Inclination Of Most White People To Demand Spirituals The Moment It Is Known That A Negro Is About To Sing. So Often The Request Has Seemed To Savor Of The Feeling That We Could Do This And This Alone.