Langston Hughes

My writing has been largely concerned with the depicting of Negro life in America.

An artist must be free to choose what he does, certainly, but he must also never be afraid to do what he might choose.

Perhaps the mission of an artist is to interpret beauty to people - the beauty within themselves.

When peoples care for you and cry for you they can straighten out your soul.

One of the great needs of Negro children is to have books about themselves and their lives that can help them be proud.

My personal experience has been that in my 25 years of writing, I have not been asked to do more than four or five commercial one-shot scripts. These were performed on major national hook-ups but produced for me no immediate additional jobs or requests. One script for BBC was done around the world with an all-star cast.

Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.

When peoples care for you and cry for you, they can straighten out your soul.

We Negro writers, just by being black, have been on the blacklist all our lives. Censorship for us begins at the color line.

The sea is a desert of waves, A wilderness of water.

What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up Like a raisin in the sun?... Or does it explode?

To my mind, it is the duty of the younger Negro artist, if he accepts any duties at all from outsiders, to change through the force of his art that old whispering 'I want to be white,' hidden in the aspirations of his people, to 'Why should I want to be white? I am a Negro - and beautiful!'

Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow.

In all my life, I have never been free. I have never been able to do anything with freedom, except in the field of my writing.

Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die life is a broken-winged bird, that cannot fly.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I live in Harlem, New York City. I am unmarried. I like 'Tristan,' goat's milk, short novels, lyric poems, heat, simple folk, boats and bullfights; I dislike 'Aida,' parsnips, long novels, narrative poems, cold, pretentious folk, buses and bridges.

I will not take "but" for an answer.

I swear to the Lord, I still can't see, why Democracy means, everybody but me.

When it is not on the side of civil rights, then the law is not right, it is white.

The Jewish people and the Negro people both know the meaning of Nordic supremacy. We have both looked into the eyes of terror.

We younger Negro artists who create now intend to express our individual dark-skinned selves without fear or shame. If white people are pleased, we are glad. If they are not, it doesn't matter. We know we are beautiful. And ugly too.

I have discovered in life that there are ways of getting almost anywhere you want to go, if you really want to go.

Reach high, for the stars lie hidden in your soul. Dream deep, for every dream precedes the goal.

Like a welcome summer rain, humor may suddenly cleanse and cool the earth, the air and you.

Hold fast to dreams for if dreams die life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly.

Humor is laughing at what you haven't got when you ought to have it.

Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die. Life is a broken-winged bird, that cannot fly.

It's such a Bore Being always Poor.

My chief literary influences have been Paul Laurence Dunbar, Carl Sandburg, and Walt Whitman. My favorite public figures include Jimmy Durante, Marlene Dietrich, Mary McLeod Bethune, Mrs. Franklin D. Roosevelt, Marian Anderson, and Henry Armstrong.

I will not take 'but' for an answer.

Hold fast to your dreams, for without them life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly.

Life is for the living. Death is for the dead. Let life be like music. And death a note unsaid.

What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up Like a raisin in the sun? Or does it explode?

Beauty for some provides escape, who gain a happiness in eyeing the gorgeous buttocks of the ape or Autumn sunsets exquisitely dying.

Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby.

Negroes - Sweet and docile, Meek, humble, and kind: Beware the day - They change their mind.

I was a victim of a stereotype. There were only two of us Negro kids in the whole class, and our English teacher was always stressing the importance of rhythm in poetry. Well, everybody knows - except us - that all Negroes have rhythms, so they elected me class poet.