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Keep your hand on the plow. Hold on.
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
Plow
Hold
Hand
Keep
Hands
More quotes by Langston Hughes
I asked you, baby, If you understood- You told me that you didn't, But you thought you would.
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Life is a big sea full of many fish. I let down my nets and pulled. I'm still pulling.
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Beauty for some provides escape, who gain a happiness in eyeing the gorgeous buttocks of the ape or Autumn sunsets exquisitely dying.
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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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My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
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Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.
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Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear.
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Yet the ivory gods, And the ebony gods, And the gods of diamond-jade, Are only silly puppet gods That people themselves Have made.-
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I've known rivers: I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of human blood in human veins. My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
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We Negro writers, just by being black, have been on the blacklist all our lives. Censorship for us begins at the color line.
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For poems are like rainbows they escape you quickly.
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An artist must be free to choose what he does, certainly, but he must also never be afraid to do what he might choose.
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Never look for a worm in the apple of your eye.
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Everybody should take each other as they are, white, black, Indians, Creole. Then there would be no prejudice, nations would get along.
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Your explanation depresses me, I said. Your nonsense depresses me, said Simple.
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Wear it Like a banner For the proud? Not like a shroud.
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For my best poems were all written when I felt the worst. When I was happy, I didn't write anything.
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Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby.
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Rest at pale evening... A tall slim tree... Night coming tenderly Black like me
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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.
Langston Hughes