Nature Was My Kindergarten.

If My Serenade Of Song And Story Should Serve As A Pillow For Some Composer's Head, As Yet Perhaps Unborn, To Dream And Build On Our Fond Melodies In His Tomorrow, I Have Not Labored In Vain.

You'll Never Miss The Water 'til The Well Runs Dry.

You Can Never Tell What's In A Woman's Mind, And If She's From Harlem, There's No Use O' Tryin

You've Got To Appreciate The Things That Come From The Art Of The Negro And From The Heart Of The Man Farthest Down.

My Big Ears Indicated A Talent For Music. This Thrilled Me.