Hunger has always been more or less at my elbow when I played, but now I began to wake up at night to find hunger standing at my bedside, staring at my gauntly.
RICHARD WRIGHTPity can purge us of hostility and arouse feelings of identification with the characters, but it can also be a consoling reassurance which leads us to believe that we have understood, and that, in pitying, we have even done something to right a wrong.
More Richard Wright Quotes
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And they do not know why; they are powerless pawns in a blind play of social forces.
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A mode of being that the way of life about me had said could not be, must not be, and upon which the penalty of death had been placed.
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Whenever my environment had failed to support or nourish me, I had clutched at books.
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It 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
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Somewhere in the dead of the southern night my life had switched onto the wrong track and without my knowing it.
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But the color of a Negro’s skin makes him easily recognizable, makes him suspect, converts him into a defenseless target
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Reluctantly, he comes to the conclusion that to account for his book is to account for his life.
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We smelted iron, danced, made music and folk poems; we sculpted, worked in glass, spun cotton and wool, wove baskets and cloth.
RICHARD WRIGHT -
The holy and the evil, the high and the low, the white and the black; our America is frightened of fact, of history, of processes, of necessity.
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I did not know if the story was factually true or not, but it was emotionally true […].
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The locomotive of my heart was rushing down a dangerously steep slope, heading for a collision, heedless of the warning red lights that blinked all about me, the sirens and the ells and the screams that filled the air.
RICHARD WRIGHT -
It made me love talk that sought answers to questions that could help nobody, that could only keep alive in me that enthralling sense of wonder and awe in the face of the drama of human feeling which is hidden by the external drama of life.
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He had lived and acted on the assumption that he was alone, and now he saw that he had not been. What he had done made others suffer.
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We black and they white. They got things and we ain’t. They do things and we can’t. It’s just like livin’ in jail.
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It 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 WRIGHT






