I Cut My Teeth As The Black

Ever At Thy Glowing Altar Must My Heart Grow Sick And Falter, Wishing He I Served Were Black.

Africa? A Book One Thumbs Listlessly, Till Slumber Comes.

For We Must Be One Thing Or The Other, An Asset Or A Liability, The Sinew In Your Wing To Help You Soar, Or The Chain To Bind You To Earth.

The Loss Of Love Is A Terrible Thing; They Lie Who Say That Death Is Worse.

I Doubt Not God Is Good, Well-meaning, Kind