W.E.B. Du Bois: “Its end is Death--the sweet silence of perfection, the calm and balance of utter music.”

All this segregation by color is largely independent of that natural clustering by social grades common to all communities.

A million black men started with renewed zeal to vote themselves into the kingdom.

Alas, with the years all this fine contempt began to fade; for the words I longed for, and all their dazzling opportunities, were theirs, not mine.

To be a poor man is hard, but to be a poor race in a land of dollars is the very bottom of hardships.