7 X 7 + Love = An

Blues Had The Pulse Beat Of The People Who Keep On Going.

I Look At My Own Body With Eyes No Longer Blind- And I See That My Own Hands Can Make The World That's In My Mind.

I Loved My Friend He Went Away From Me There's Nothing More To Say The Poem Ends, Soft As It Began- I Loved My Friend.

One Of The Great Difficulties About Being A Member Of A Minority Race Is That So Many Kindhearted, Well-meaning Bores Gather Around To Help.

Sometimes I Wish The Public Were Equally Aware Of The Men Of Our Race In The Cultural Fields. You, For Instance, Have You Ever Bought A Book By A Negro Writer?