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Exhaust the little moment. Soon it dies. And be it gash or gold it will not come again in this identical guise.
Gwendolyn Brooks
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Gwendolyn Brooks
Age: 83 †
Born: 1917
Born: June 7
Died: 2000
Died: December 3
Novelist
Poet
Teacher
Writer
Topeka
Kansas
Gwendolyn Elizabeth Brooks
Moment
Moments
Gash
Littles
Exhaust
Little
Guise
Come
Identical
Life
Soon
Gold
Dies
More quotes by Gwendolyn Brooks
As you get older, you find that often the wheat, disentangling itself from the chaff, comes out to meet you.
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Good health is a duty to yourself, to your contemporaries, to your inheritors, to the progress of the world.
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Truth-tellers are not always palatable. There is a preference for candy bars.
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Don't let anyone call you a minority if you're black or Hispanic or belong to some other ethnic group. You're not less than anybody else.
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I don't like the idea of the black race being diluted out of existence. I like the idea of all of us being here.
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And if sun comes / How shall we greet him? / Shall we not dread him, / Shall we not fear him / After so lengthy a / Session with shade?
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When white and black meet today, sometimes there is a ready understanding that there has been an encounter between two human beings. But often there is only, or chiefly, an awareness that Two Colors are in the room.
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I think there are things for all of us to do as long as we're here and we're healthy.
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When you love a man, he becomes more than a body. His physical limbs expand, and his outline recedes, vanishes. He is rich and sweet and right. He is part of the world, the atmosphere, the blue sky and the blue water.
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Say to them, say to the down-keepers, the sun-slappers, the self-soilers, the harmony-hushers, Even if you are not ready for day it cannot always be night. You will be right. For that is the hard home-run. Live not for battles won. Live not for the-end-of-the-song. Live in the along.
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at a certain moment in social proceedings, I am on FIRE to leave: I have a leaving-FIT.
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Do not be afraid of no, Who has so far, so very far to go.
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Life must be aromatic. There must be scent, somehow there must be some.
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When I start writing a poem, I don't think about models or about what anybody else in the world has done.
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With melted opals for my milk, Pearl-leaf for my cracker.
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I who have gone the gamut from an almost angry rejection of my dark skin by some of my brainwashed brothers and sisters to a surprised queenhood in the new Black sunam qualified to enter at least the kindergarten of new consciousness now... I have hopes for myself.
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What I'm fighting for now in my work... for an expression relevant to all manner of blacks, poems I could take into a tavern, into the street, into the halls of a housing project.
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Each body has its art.
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It is brave to be involved
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Art is a refining and evocative translation of the materials of the world.
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