We smelted iron, danced, made music and folk poems; we sculpted, worked in glass, spun cotton and wool, wove baskets and cloth.
RICHARD WRIGHTWe smelted iron, danced, made music and folk poems; we sculpted, worked in glass, spun cotton and wool, wove baskets and cloth.
RICHARD WRIGHTKill them, turn back time to the moment before I had talked so that I could have another chance to save myself.
RICHARD WRIGHTI endowed it with unlimited potentialities, redeemed it for the sake of my own hungry and cloudy yearning.
RICHARD WRIGHTI was leaving the South to fling myself into the unknown . . .
RICHARD WRIGHTI could think of nothing. And, slowly, it was upon exactly that nothingness that my mind began to dwell, that constant sense of wanting without having, of being hated without reason.
RICHARD WRIGHTIt was not a matter of believing or disbelieving what I read, but of feeling something new, of being affected by something that made the look of the world different.
RICHARD WRIGHTThe artist must bow to the monster of his own imagination.
RICHARD WRIGHTWe invented a medium of exchange, mined silver and gold, made pottery and cutlery, we fashioned tools and utensils of brass, bronze, ivory, quartz, and granite.
RICHARD WRIGHTReluctantly, he comes to the conclusion that to account for his book is to account for his life.
RICHARD WRIGHTIt hugs the easy way of damning those whom it cannot understand, of excluding those who look different, and it salves its conscience with a self-draped cloak of righteousness
RICHARD WRIGHTWe had our own literature, our own systems of law, religion, medicine, science, and education.
RICHARD WRIGHTIf a man confessed anything on his death bed, it was the truth; for no man could stare death in the face and lie.
RICHARD WRIGHTWe had our own civilization in Africa before we were captured and carried off to this land.
RICHARD WRIGHTWhat could I dream of that had the barest possibility of coming true?
RICHARD WRIGHTI made things happen within. Because my environment was bare and bleak,
RICHARD WRIGHTI could endure the hunger. I had learned to live with hate.
RICHARD WRIGHT