W.E.B. Du Bois: “The minor cadences of despair change often to triumph and calm confidence.”

Of death the Negro showed little fear, but talked of it familiarly and even fondly as simply a crossing of the waters, perhaps—who knows?—back to his ancient forests again.

Through all the sorrow of the Sorrow Songs there breathes a hope—a faith in the ultimate justice of things.

Let the ears of a guilty people tingle with truth, and seventy millions sigh for the righteousness which exalteth nations, in this drear day when human brotherhood is mockery and a snare.

Hear my cry, O God the Reader; vouchsafe that this my book fall not still-born into the world wilderness.