“Life is for the living. Death is for the dead. Let life be like music. And death a note unsaid.”
To my mind, it is the duty of the younger Negro artist, if he accepts any duties at all from outsiders, to change through the force of his art that old whispering 'I want to be white,' hidden in the aspirations of his people, to 'Why should I want to be white? I am a Negro - and beautiful!'
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“Life is for the living. Death is for the dead. Let life be like music. And death a note unsaid.”
“Life is for the living. Death is for the dead. Let life be like music. And death a note unsaid.”
“Hold fast to dreams, For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird, That cannot fly.”
“Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby.”
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