Quote

This morning I paid seventy cents for two little old dried-up slivers of bacon and one cockeyed egg. It took me till noon to get my appetite back.

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
Paid
Bacon
Eating
Seventy
Took
Noon
Morning
Seventies
Two
Cents
Littles
Appetite
Slivers
Back
Eggs
Cockeyed
Little
Till
Dried

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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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I loved my friend He went away from me There's nothing more to say The poem ends, Soft as it began- I loved my friend.
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Words Like Freedom There are words like Freedom Sweet and wonderful to say. On my heartstrings freedom sings All day everyday. There are words like Liberty That almost make me cry. If you had known what I know You would know why.
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To create a market for your writing you have to be consistent, professional, a continuing writer - not just a one-article or a one-story or a one-book man.
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Everything there is but lovin' leaves a rust on your old soul
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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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Never look for a worm in the apple of your eye.
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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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Blues had the pulse beat of the people who keep on going.
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This is the mountain standing in the way of any true Negro art in America - this urge within the race toward whiteness, the desire to pour racial individuality into the mold of American standardization, and to be as little Negro and as much American as possible.
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I look at my own body With eyes no longer blind- And I see that my own hands can make The world that's in my mind.
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Like a welcome summer rain, humor may suddenly cleanse and cool the earth, the air and you.
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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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Keep your hand on the plow. Hold on.
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I will not take but for an answer.
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Negroes - Sweet and docile, Meek, humble, and kind: Beware the day - They change their mind.
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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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