“The calm, Cool face of the river, Asked me for a kiss.”

The past has been a mint Of blood and sorrow. That must not be True of tomorrow.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I swear to the Lord, I still can’t see, why Democracy means, everybody but me.

There is no color line in art.

For poems are like rainbows; they escape you quickly.

Beauty for some provides escape, who gain a happiness in eyeing the gorgeous buttocks of the ape or Autumn sunsets exquisitely dying.

It has seemed to me that most people are generally good, in every race and in every country where I have been.

Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love. I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.

Road’s in front o’ me, Nothin’ to do but walk.

I’m so tired of waiting, aren’t you, for the world to become good and beautiful and kind?

Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.

When poems stop talking about the moon and begin to mention poverty, trade unions, color, color lines and colonies, somebody tells the police.

When a man starts out to build a world, He starts first with himself

Whiskey just naturally likes me but beer likes me better.

For my best poems were all written when I felt the worst. When I was happy, I didn’t write anything.

The depression brought everybody down a peg or two. And the Negroes had but few pegs to fall.

Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.

Enthusiasm is a supernatural serenity.

Freedom is obedience to self-formulated rules.

Keep calm and carry on.

I function better when things are going badly than when they’re as smooth as whipped cream.

Education breeds confidence. Confidence breeds hope. Hope breeds peace.

I do not want the peace which passeth understanding, I want the understanding which bringeth peace.

Timid men prefer the calm of despotism to the tempestuous sea of Liberty.