He Must Have Smiled At Me, Though

All Of These Declarations Of What Writing Ought To Be, Which I Had Myself-though, Thank God I Had Never Committed Them To Paper-i Think Are Nonsense. You Write What You Write, And Then Either It Holds Up Or It Doesn't Hold Up. There Are No Rules Or Particular Sensibilities. I Don't Believe In That At All Anymore.

I'm So Used To Being Misunderstood.

It's Very Funny, American Society: White Culture Can Do All Sorts Of Things And Get Away With It, But The Minute A Black Person Does It, It's Interpreted In Some Way.

It Is True That Our Skin Is Sort Of More Or Less The Same Shade. But Is It True That Our Skin Color Makes Us A Distinctive Race? No.

That Is How I Came To Think That Heavy And Hard Was The Beginning Of Living, Real Living; And Though I Might Not End Up With A Mark On My Cheek, I Had No Doubt That I Would End Up With A Mark Somewhere.