Who You Are Is A Mystery No

On Their Way To Freedom, Some People Find Riches, Some People Find Death.

Life Has A Truth To It, And It's Complicated - It's Love And It's Hatred.

Out Of The Corner Of One Eye, I Could See My Mother. Out Of The Corner Of The Other Eye, I Could See Her Shadow On The Wall, Cast There By The Lamplight. It Was A Big And Solid Shadow, And It Looked So Much Like My Mother That I Became Frightened. For I Could Not Be Sure Whether For The Rest Of My Life I Would Be Able To Tell When It Was Really My Mother And When It Was Really Her Shadow Standing Between Me And The Rest Of The World.

When I Start To Write Something, I Suppose I Want It To Change Me, To Make Me Into Something Not Myself.

The Strange Thing About My Life Is That I Came To America At About The Time When Racial Attitudes Were Changing. This Was A Big Help To Me. Also, The People Who Were Most Cruel To Me When I First Came To America Were Black Americans. They Made Absolute Fun Of The Way I Talked, The Way I Dressed. I Couldn't Dance. The People Who Were Most Kind And Loving To Me Were White People. So What Can One Make Of That? Perhaps It Was A Coincidence That All The People Who Found Me Strange Were Black And All The People Who Didn't Were White.