Poets From The United States

"We are the earth his word must sow like wheat And, if it finds no earth, it cannot grow. We are his earth, the mortal and the dying, Led by no star — the sullen and the slut, The thief, the selfish man, the barren woman, Who have betrayed him once and will betray him, Forget his words, be great a moment's space Under the strokes of chance, And then sink back into our small affairs. And yet, unless we go, his message fails."

"Life was a storm to wander through. I took the wrong way. Good and well, At least my feet sought out not Hell!"

"The moon, a sweeping scimitar, dipped in the stormy straits, The dawn, a crimson cataract, burst through the eastern gates, The cliffs were robed in scarlet, the sands were cinnabar, Where first two men spread wings for flight and dared the hawk afar."

"When the first wrong was done to the first Indian, I was there. When the first slaver put out for the Congo, I stood on her deck. Am I not in your books and stories and beliefs, from the first settlements on? Am I not spoken of, still, in every church in New England? 'Tis true the North claims me for a Southerner and the South for a Northerner, but I am neither. I am merely an honest American like yourself — and of the best descent — for, to tell the truth, Mr. Webster, though I don't like to boast of it, my name is older in this country than yours."

"I shall not rest quiet in Montparnasse. I shall not lie easy at Winchelsea. You may bury my body in Sussex grass, You may bury my tongue at Champmédy. I shall not be there. I shall rise and pass. Bury my heart at Wounded Knee."

"The iron ice stung like a goad, Slashing the torn shoes from my feet, And all the air was bitter sleet. And all the land was cramped with snow, Steel-strong and fierce and glimmering wan, Like pale plains of obsidian. — And yet I strove — and I was fire And ice — and fire and ice were one In one vast hunger of desire."

"Was it not better so to lie? The fight was done. Even gods tire Of fighting... My way was the wrong. Now I should drift and drift along To endless quiet, golden peace... And let the tortured body cease.And then a light winked like an eye. . . . And very many miles away A girl stood at a warm, lit door, Holding a lamp. Ray upon ray It cloaked the snow with perfect light. And where she was there was no night Nor could be, ever. God is sure, And in his hands are things secure."

"I don't recall your name, but your manners are familiar."

"Modesty is the gentle art of enhancing your charm by pretending not to be aware of it."

"Manuscript: something submitted in haste and returned at leisure."

"Actresses will happen in the best-regulated families."

"A woman's mind is cleaner than a man's—she changes it oftener."

"Darling: the popular form of address used in speaking to a person of the opposite sex whose name you cannot at the moment recall."

"Cat: A pygmy lion who loves mice, hates dogs and patronizes human beings."

"Only the young die good."

"There is no time like the pleasant."

"Many are called but few get up."

"Diplomacy: Lying in state."

"My wife has a whim of iron."

"A man must love a thing very much if he not only practices it without any hope of fame and money, but even practices it without any hope of doing it well."

"Age, like distance, lends a double charm."

"the greatest Grace we can aspire to is the strength to see the wounded walk with the forgotten and pull ourselves from the screaming blood of our losses to fight on undaunted all the more"

"There are addictions to feed and there are mouths to pay So you bargain with the Devil but you're okay for today Say that you love them take their money and run And say, "It's been swell, sweetheart But it was just one of those things""

"I'd sit on logs like pulpits listen to the sermon of sparrows and find god in Simplicity, there amongst the dandelion and thorn"

"I love supporting women and sports. It’s funny, ya know, I don’t think I started off young as a feminist. I read a lot of books in Alaska, I was pretty isolated where I grew up, and I think that I never thought I was any different than a man; I was raised in a place where pioneer women were very strong still. They’d shoe horses and build their own homes and were very self-sufficient. It wasn’t really until I’ve gotten older that I really became a fan of women. And a fan of what women are capable of balancing and achieving, by just being them. I’m proud to support it in any and every avenue."

"People living their lives for you on TV They say they're better than you, and you agree"

"Pieces of You is not a good record. It's an embarrassing record, ultimately. It's like having your dirty laundry aired out. I didn't think people would hear it. But it made me realize that all people want is to be touched. They don't care if it's Celine Dion or Meat Loaf or me."

"Another doctor's bill, a lawyer's bill, another cute, cheap thrill You know you love him if you put him in your will, but Who will save your souls?"

"I think each person knows what's good for them. I don't think you need to be drastic. But it's finding where's passion in your life. We can't live without dreams."

"Who will save your souls? After all those lies that you told, boy Now, who will save your souls? If you won't save your own?"

"I kept getting typified as this Pollyanna neohippie. I think it's because I have a different definition of optimism. I've noticed a belief that somehow optimism lacks intelligence and that optimism stems from a lack of experience and naiveté. I don't believe that. I believe optimism is a choice. Cynicism isn't smarter, it's just safer."

"Another day, another dollar, another war, another tower Went up where the homeless had their homes So we pray to as many different gods as there are flowers But we call religion our friend We're so worried about savin' our souls Afraid that God will take His toll that we forget to begin, but Who will save your souls? When it comes to the beggars now Who will save your souls? After those lies that you told, boy And who will save your souls? If you won't save your own?"

"We must make the best of those ills which cannot be avoided."

"The rich are not really a bad lot. We must not judge by appearances. If it weren't for their money they would be indistinguishable from the rest of us. But money brings out their weaknesses, naturally. Would it not bring out ours? A moderate addiction to money may not always be hurtful; but when taken in excess it is nearly always bad for the health, it limits one's chance of indulging in nice simple pleasures, and in many cases it lowers the whole moral tone. The rich admit this — of each other; but what can they do? Once a man has begun to accumulate money, it is unnatural to stop. He actually gets in a state where he wants more and more. This may seem incomprehensible to those who have never suffered from affluence, and yet they would feel the same way, in a millionaire's place. A man begins by thinking that he can have money without being its victim. He will admit that other men addicted to wealth find it hard to be moderate, but he always is convinced that he is different and has more self-control. But the growth of an appetite is determined by nature, not men, and this is as true of getting money as of anything else. As soon as a man is used to a certain amount, no matter how large, his ideas of what is suitable expand. That is the way men are made."

"When eras die, their legacies Are left to strange police. Professors in New England guard The glory that was Greece."

"The world of books is the most remarkable creation of man. Nothing else that he builds ever lasts. Monuments fall; nations perish; civilizations grow old and die out; and, after an era of darkness, new races build others. But in the world of books are volumes that have seen this happen again and again, and yet live on, still young, still as fresh as the day they were written, still telling men’s hearts of the hearts of men centuries dead. And even the books that do not last long, penetrate their own times at least, sailing farther than Ulysses even dreamed of, like ships on the seas. It is the author’s part to call into being their cargoes and passengers,—living thoughts and rich bales of study and jeweled ideas. And as for the publishers, it is they who build the fleet, plan the voyage, and sail on, facing wreck, till they find every possible harbor that will value their burden."

"You can't sweep other people off their feet, if you can't be swept off your own."

"Information's pretty thin stuff unless mixed with experience."

"By the 1940s there was Richard Wright, a gifted novelist ... His autobiography of 1937, Black Boy, gave endless insights: for instance, how blacks were set against one another, when he told how he was prodded to fight another black boy for the amusement of white men."

"I would say that Dick was my closest friend. We had a small group, Dick Wright, Chester Himes and myself and we lived and enjoyed French life."

"Kierkegaard is one of the great writers of today. He is one of the men who, during the last twenty or thirty years, modern civilization has recognized as a man whose writings express the modern temperament and the modern personality. And Dick assured me that he was reading Kierkegaard because everything he read in Kierkegaard he had known before. What he was telling me was that he was a black man in the United States and that gave him an insight into what today is the universal opinion and attitude of the modern personality. I believe that is a matter that is not only black studies, but is white studies too. I believe that that is some form of study which is open to any university: Federal City College, Harvard, etc. It is not an ethnic matter. I knew Wright well enough to know that he meant it. I didn’t ask him much because I thought he meant me to understand something. And I understood it. I didn’t have to ask him about that. What there was in Dick’s life, what there was in the experience of a black man in the United States in the 1930s that made him understand everything that Kierkegaard had written before he had read it and the things that made Kierkegaard the famous writer that he is today? That is something that I believe has to be studied."

"Wright was an American phenomenon. Lenin, during the Russian Revolution, looked at the jubilant former serfs who'd changed the course of history. Wouldn't he be thinking also of one like this one when he dreamed of creating a new man? Phenomena-especially Black ones-can't be measured by ordinary standards. Perhaps this is what W. E. B. DuBois had in mind when he said, "We struggle not only for the right of Blacks to be right but also for their right to be wrong!" Wright was a prodigious reader and he never failed to credit the extraordinary 10-year leap from semi-illiterate Black serf to literary giant to his discovery of Marx, Engels and Lenin, which subsequently led to his membership in the Communist Party. Mississippi had taught him to despise capitalist exploitation and injustice."

"In an era when fiction with political intent was widely condemned, Wright’s haunting novel, with its clear political message, made me unafraid to write a political novel. It also showed me that presenting horrifying actions can serve a powerful literary purpose, and that “shocking” can be high praise."

"He came like a sledgehammer, like a giant out of the mountain with a sledgehammer, writing with a sledgehammer..."

"I clearly remember my introduction to the African American heritage. I was in the school sanatorium with a bad attack of the flu when the headmistress came to see me, bringing copies of Wright's Native Son, Black Boy and Trevor Huddleston's Naught For Your Comfort, I could not put any of the books down."

"I was preoccupied with books by black people that approached the subject, but I always missed some intimacy, some direction, some voice. Ralph Ellison and Richard Wright-all of whose books I admire enormously-I didn't feel were telling me something. I thought they were saying something about it or us that revealed something about us to you, to others, to white people, to men. Just in terms of the style, I missed something in the fiction that I felt in a real sense in the music and poetry of black artists. When I began writing I was writing as though there was nobody in the world but me and the characters, as though I was talking to them, or us, and it just had a different sound to it."

"Most of the writers with whom I was most impressed were the French and Russian writers of another period. The one American writer who stood out to me was Richard Wright-and Dreiser. I took to their naturalism. I was able to understand so much of the country through them. Certainly I understood Black America because of Richard Wright."

"You are your own law, so you'll be your own judge."

"the most powerful and celebrated statement we have yet had of what it means to be a Negro in America is unquestionably Richard Wright's Native Son. The feeling which prevailed at the time of its publication was that such a novel, bitter, uncompromising, shocking, gave proof, by its very existence, of what strides might be taken in a free democracy; and its indisputable success, proof that Americans were now able to look full in the face without flinching the dreadful facts ... Such a book, we felt with pride, could never have been written before-which was true. Nor could it be written today. It bears already the aspect of a landmark; for Bigger [Thomas] and his brothers have undergone yet another metamorphosis; they have been accepted in baseball leagues and by colleges hitherto exclusive; and they have made a most favorable appearance on the national screen. We have yet to encounter, nevertheless, a report so indisputably authentic, or one that can begin to challenge this most significant novel. ... In the thirties, swallowing Marx whole, we discovered the Worker and realized-I should think with some relief-that the aims of the Worker and the aims of the Negro were one. ... As for this New Negro, it was Wright who became his most eloquent spokesman; and his work, from its beginning, is most clearly committed to the social struggle. ... Recording his days of anger he has also nevertheless recorded, as no Negro before him had ever done, that fantasy Americans hold in their minds when they speak of the Negro: that fantastic and fearful image which we have lived with since the first slave fell beneath the lash. This is the significance of Native Son and also, unhappily, its overwhelming limitation…Native Son finds itself at length so trapped by the American image of Negro life and by the American necessity to find the ray of hope that it cannot pursue its own implications."

"Nothing.... Alone a man is nothing.....I wish I had some way to give the meaning of my life to others.... To make a bridge from man to man.... We must find some way of being good to ourselves.... Man is all we've got."