W.E.B. Du Bois: “I fought earnestly against posing before my class.”

But they should not keep these prizes, I said; some, all, I would wrest from them.

In song and exhortation swelled one refrain—Liberty; in his tears and curses the God he implored had Freedom in his right hand.

The Nation has not yet found peace from its sins; the freedman has not yet found in freedom his promised land.

It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity.