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Negroes - Sweet and docile, Meek, humble, and kind: Beware the day - They change their mind.

Langston Hughes

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Langston Hughes
Age: 66 †
Born: 1901
Born: February 1
Died: 1967
Died: May 22
Biographer
Essayist
Journalist
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Writer
Joplin
Missouri
James Langston Hughes
James Mercer Langston Hughes
Sweet
Literature
Change
Kind
Docile
Mind
Negroes
Meek
Beware
Humble

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It is the duty of the younger Negro artist . . . to change through the force of his art that old whispering I want to be white, hidden in the aspirations of his people, to Why should I want to be white? I am a Negro - and beautiful!
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Believing everything she read In the daily news, (No in-between to choose) She thought that only One side won, Not that BOTH Might lose.
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A world I dream where black or white, Whatever race you be, Will share the bounties of the Earth And every man is free.
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Summer was made to give you a taste of what hell is like. Winter was made for landladies to charge high rents and keep cold radiators and make a fortune off of poor tenants.
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There is no color line in death. I swear to the lord I still can't see Why Democracy means Everybody but me. O, yes, I say it plain, America never was America to me, And yet I swear this oath - America will be! I am the American heartbreak- The rock on which Freedom Stumped its toe.
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Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed - Let it be that great strong land of love Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme That any man be crushed by one above.
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My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
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There is no color line in art.
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Rest at pale evening... A tall slim tree... Night coming tenderly Black like me
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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.
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Hard as I try, daddy-o, I really do not like concert singers. They are always singing in some foreign language.
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Americans of good-will, the nice decent church people, the well-meaning liberals, the good hearted souls who themselves wouldn't lynch anyone, must begin to realize that they have to be more than passively good-hearted, more than church goingly Christian, and much more than word-of-mouth in the liberalism.
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What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? ... Or does it explode?
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Everything there is but lovin' leaves a rust on your old soul
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Blues had the pulse beat of the people who keep on going.
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