Langston Quotes

Hold fast to dreams, For if dreams die 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.

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

I went down to the river, I set down on the bank. I tried to think but couldn't, So I jumped in and sank.

The important people in our lives leave imprints. They may stay or go in the physical realm, but they are always there in your heart, because they helped form your heart. There's no getting over that.

I loved my friend He went away from me There's nothing more to say The poem ends, Soft as it began- I loved my friend.

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

Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love. I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.

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

Looks like what drives me crazy Don't have no effect on you-- But I'm gonna keep on at it Till it drives you crazy, too.

Folks, I'm telling you, birthing is hard and dying is mean- so get yourself a little loving in between.

I stay cool, and dig all jive, That's the way I stay alive. My motto, as I live and learn, is Dig and be dug In return.

Hold fast to dreams for if dreams die life is a broken-winged bird that can not fly. Hold fast to dreams for when dreams go life is a barren field frozen with snow.

Harlem What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore-- And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over-- like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. Or does it explode?

Oh, God of Dust and Rainbows, Help us to see That without the dust the rainbow Would not be.

Though you may hear me holler, And you may see me cry-- I'll be dogged, sweet baby, If you gonna see me die.

I am so tired of waiting. Aren’t you, for the world to become good and beautiful and kind? Let us take a knife and cut the world in two— and see what worms are eating at the rind.

So since I'm still here livin', I guess I will live on. I could've died for love-- But for livin' I was born.

I've known rivers: I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of human blood in human veins. My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

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

I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh, And eat well, And grow strong. Tomorrow, I'll be at the table When company comes. Nobody'll dare Say to me, "Eat in the kitchen," Then. Besides, They'll see how beautiful I am And be ashamed-- I, too, am America.

Gather out of star-dust, Earth-dust, Cloud-dust, Storm-dust, And splinters of hail, One handful of dream-dust, Not for sale.

To some people Love is given, To others Only Heaven.

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

...the only way to get a thing done is to start to do it, then keep on doing it, and finally you'll finish it,....

Out of love, No regrets-- Though the goodness Be wasted forever. Out of love, No regrets-- Though the return Be never.

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

I asked you, baby, If you understood- You told me that you didn't, But you thought you would.

Yet the ivory gods, And the ebony gods, And the gods of diamond-jade, Are only silly puppet gods That people themselves Have made.-

Good morning, Revolution: You're the very best friend I ever had. We gonna pal around together from now on

Cheap little rhymes A cheap little tune Are sometimes as dangerous As a sliver of the moon.

Suicide Note: The calm, Cool face of the river Asked me for a kiss. -Langston Hughes

I tire so of hearing people say, Let things take their course. Tomorrow is another day. I do not need my freedom when I'm dead. I cannot live on tomorrow's bread.

Negroes Sweet and docile, Meek, humble, and kind: Beware the day They change their minds! Wind In the cotton fields, Gentle breeze: Beware the hour It uproots trees!

The calm, Cool face of the river, Asked me for a kiss

The Dream Keeper Bring me all of your dreams, You dreamer, Bring me all your Heart melodies That I may wrap them In a blue cloud-cloth Away from the too-rough fingers Of the world.

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

When a man starts out to build a world, He starts first with himself

Believing everything she read In the daily news, (No in-between to choose) She thought that only One side won, Not that BOTH Might lose.

Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think I suffer after I have held my pain So long? Because my mouth Is wide with laughter You do not hear My inner cry? Because my feet Are gay with dancing You do not know I die?

How still, How strangely still The water is today, It is not good For water To be so still that way. ~ "Sea Calm

LIBERTY! FREEDOM! DEMOCRACY! True anyhow no matter how many Liars use those words.

Sometimes a crumb falls From the tables of joy, Sometimes a bone Is flung. To some people Love is given, To others Only heaven.

Well, son, I'll tell you: Life for me ain't been no crystal stair. It's had tacks in it, And splinters, And boards torn up, And places with no carpet on the floor -- Bare. But all the time I'se been a-climbin' on, And reachin' landin's, And turnin' corners, And sometimes goin' in the dark Where there ain't been no light. So boy, don't you turn back. Don't you set down on the steps 'Cause you finds it's kinder hard. Don't you fall now -- For I'se still goin', honey, I'se still climbin', And life for me ain't been no crystal stair.

Mother to Son Well, son, I'll tell you: Life for me ain't been no crystal stair. It's had tacks in it, And splinters, And boards torn up, And places with no carpet on the floor - Bare. But all the time I'se been a'climbin' on, And reachin' landin's, And turnin' corners, And sometimes goin' in the dark Where there ain't been no light. So boy, don't you turn back. Don't you set down on the steps 'Cause you finds it's kinder hard. Don't you fall now - For I'se still goin', honey, I'se still climbin', And life for me ain't been no crystal stair. - Langston Hughes (112)

The past has been a mint Of blood and sorrow. That must not be True of tomorrow.

Most musicians remain poor. But the music that they make, even if it does not bring them millions, gives millions of people happiness.

Life is a egg you have to be patient and carefull with it or it will brake

Gather up In the arms of your love—Those who expect No love from above.

I wish the rent Was heaven sent.

7 x 7 + love = An amount Infinitely above: 7 x 7 - love.

I stuck my head out the window this morning and spring kissed me bang in the face.

Impasse I could tell you If I wanted to, What makes me What I am. But I don't Really want to – And you don't Give a damn.

I've known rivers: I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of human blood in human veins. My soul has grown deep like the rivers. I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young. I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep. I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it. I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln went down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy bosom turn all golden in the sunset. I've known rivers: Ancient, dusky rivers. My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

Rest at pale evening... A tall slim tree... Night coming tenderly Black like me

What happens to a dream deferred? / Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?

Frosting Freedom Is just frosting On somebody else's Cake-- And so must be Till we Learn how to Bake.

Justice That Justice is a blind goddess Is a thing to which we black are wise: Her bandage hides two festering sores That once perhaps were eyes.

I've been scared and battered. My hopes the wind done scattered. Snow has friz me, Sun has baked me, Looks like between 'em they done Tried to make me Stop laughin', stop lovin', stop livin'-- But I don't care! I'm still here!

Pleasured equally In seeking as in finding, Each detail minding, Old Walt went seeking And finding.

O, let my land be a land where Liberty Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath, But opportunity is real, and life is free, Equality is in the air we breathe.

Life dosent frighten me at all.

I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.

Peace We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark They could not see Who had gained The victory.

I dream a world where man No other man will scorn, Where love will bless the earth And peace its paths adorn I dream a world where all Will know sweet freedom's way, Where greed no longer saps the soul Nor avarice blights our day. A world I dream where black or white, Whatever race you be, Will share the bounties of the earth And every man is free, Where wretchedness will hang its head And joy, like a pearl, Attends the needs of all mankind- Of such I dream, my world!

Go home and write / a page tonight. / And let that page come out of you - / Then, it will be true.

I kept finding the same anguish, the same doubt; a self-contempt that neither irony nor intellect seemed able to deflect. Even DuBois’s learning and Baldwin’s love and Langston’s humor eventually succumbed to its corrosive force, each man finally forced to doubt art’s redemptive power, each man finally forced to withdraw, one to Africa, one to Europe, one deeper into the bowels of Harlem, but all of them in the same weary flight, all of them exhausted, bitter men, the devil at their heels.

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

My old man's a white old man And my old mother's black. If ever I cursed my white old man I take my curses back. If ever I cursed my black old mother And wished she were in hell, I'm sorry for that evil wish And now i wish her well My old man died in a fine big house My Ma died in a shack. I wonder were i'm going to die, Being neither white nor black?

Words Like Freedom There are words like Freedom Sweet and wonderful to say. On my heartstrings freedom sings All day everyday. There are words like Liberty That almost make me cry. If you had known what I know You would know why.

What happens to a dream deferred?

There is no color line in death.

Island Wave of sorrow, Do not drown me now: I see the island Still ahead somehow. I see the island And its sands are fair: Wave of sorrow, Take me there.

if you’re going to use the word ‘dream’ in a poem, you had better be langston hughes.

Books -where if people suffered, they suffered in beautiful language, not in monosyllables, as we did in Kansas

American Heartbreak I am the American heartbreak-- The rock on which Freedom Stumped its toe-- The great mistake That Jamestown made Long ago.

You see, books had been happening to me.

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death, The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies, We, the people, must redeem The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers. The mountains and the endless plain-- All, all the stretch of these great green states-- And make America again!

Oppression Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers. In some lands Dark night And cold steel Prevail-- But the dream Will come back, And the song Break Its jail.

Your explanation depresses me," I said. "Your nonsense depresses me," said Simple.

They rung my bell to ask me. Could I recommend a maid. I said, yes, your momma.

America is a dream. The poet says it was promises. The people say it is promises—that will come true. The people do not always say things out loud, Nor write them down on paper. The people often hold Great thoughts in their deepest hearts And sometimes only blunderingly express them, Haltingly and stumbling say them, And faultily put them into practice. The people do not always understand each other. But there is, somewhere there, Always the trying to understand, And the trying to say, "You are a man. Together we are building our land.

Down Where I Am Too many years Beatin' at the door-- I done beat my Both fists sore. Too many years Tryin' to get up there-- Done broke my ankles down, Got nowhere. Too many years Climbin' that hill, 'Bout out of breath. I got my fill. I'm gonna plant my feet On solid ground. If you want to see me, Come down.

For poems are like rainbows; they escape you quickly.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

Quiet Girl I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams Were it not for your songs.

Final Curve When you turn the corner And you run into yourself Then you know that you have turned All the corners that are left

I will take your heart. I will take your soul out of your body As though I were God. I will not be satisfied With the little words you say to me. I will not be satisfied With the touch of your hand Nor the sweet of your lips alone. I will take your heart for mine. I will take your soul. I will be God when it comes to you.

I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen when company comes, but I laugh and I eat well, and I grow strong. Tomorrow I'll sit in the table when company comes, nobody will dare say to me "eat in the kitchen" then. Besides they'll see how beautiful I am and be ashamed.

When you read the words of Langston Hughes you are reading the words of a Black Gay man. When you read the words of Alice Dunbar-Nelson and Angelina Weld Grimké, poets of the Harlem Renaissance, you are reading the words of Black Lesbians. When you listen to the life-affirming voices of Bessie Smith and Ma Rainey, you are hearing Black Lesbian women. When you see the plays and read the words of Lorraine Hansberry, you are reading the words of a women who loved women deeply.

Lawrence has a wonderful hill in it, with a university on top and the first time I ran away from home, I ran up the hill and looked across the world: Kansas wheat fields and the Kaw River, and I wanted to go some place, too. I got a whipping for it.

Question and Answer Durban, Birmingham, Cape Town, Alabama, Johannesburg, Watts, The earth around Struggling, fighting, Dying--for what? A world to gain. Groping, hoping, Waiting--for what? A world to gain. Dreams kicked asunder, Why not go under? There's a world to gain. But suppose I don't want it, Why take it? To remake it.

You and I By Henry Alford My hand is lonely for your clasping, dear; My ear is tired waiting for your call. I want your strength to help, your laugh to cheer; Heart, soul and senses need you, one and all. I droop without your full, frank sympathy; We ought to be together—you and I; We want each other so, to comprehend The dream, the hope, things planned, or seen, or wrought. Companion, comforter and guide and friend, As much as love asks love, does thought ask thought. Life is so short, so fast the lone hours fly, We ought to be together, you and I.

Good morning, daddy! Ain't you heard The boogie-woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely: You'll hear their feet Beating out and beating out a - You think It's a happy beat? Listen to it closely: Ain't you heard something underneath like a - What did I say? Sure, I'm happy! Take it away! Dream Boogie Hey, pop! Re-bop! Mop! Y-e-a-h!

I’s been livin’ a long time in yesterday, Sandy chile, an’ I knows there ain’t no room in de world fo’ nothin’ mo’n love. I know, chile! Ever’thing there is but lovin’ leaves a rust on yo’ soul. An’ to love sho ‘nough, you got to have a spot in yo’ heart fo’ ever’body – great an’ small, white an’ black, an’ them what’s good an’ them what’s evil – ‘cause love ain’t got no crowded-out places where de good ones stay an’ de bad ones can’t come in. When it gets that way, then it ain’t love.

Militant Let all who will Eat quietly the bread of shame. I cannot, Without complaining loud and long, Tasting its bitterness in my throat And feeling to my very soul It's wrong. For honest work You proffer me poor pay, For honest dreams Your spit is in my face, And so my fist is clenched Today-- To strike your face.

our tragedy begins humid. in a humid classroom. with a humid text book. breaking into us. stealing us from ourselves. one poem. at a time. it begins with shakespeare. the hot wash. the cool acid. of dead white men and women. people. each one a storm. crashing. into our young houses. making us islands. easy isolations. until we are so beleaguered and swollen with a definition of poetry that is white skin and not us. that we tuck our scalding. our soreness. behind ourselves and learn poetry. as trauma. as violence. as erasure. another place we do not exist. another form of exile where we should praise. honor. our own starvation. the little bits of langston. phyllis wheatley. and angelou during black history month. are the crumbs. are the minor boats. that give us slight rest. to be waterdrugged into rejecting the nuances of my own bursting extraordinary self. and to have this be called education. to take my name out of my name. out of where my native poetry lives. in me. and replace it with keats. browning. dickson. wolf. joyce. wilde. wolfe. plath. bronte. hemingway. hughes. byron. frost. cummings. kipling. poe. austen. whitman. blake. longfellow. wordsworth. duffy. twain. emerson. yeats. tennyson. auden. thoreau. chaucer. thomas. raliegh. marlowe. burns. shelley. carroll. elliot… (what is the necessity of a black child being this high off of whiteness.) and so. we are here. brown babies. worshipping. feeding. the glutton that is white literature. even after it dies. (years later. the conclusion: shakespeare is relative. white literature is relative. that we are force fed the meat of an animal that our bodies will not recognize. as inherent nutrition. is not relative. is inert.)

Bow down and pray in fear and trembling, go way back in the dark afraid; or work harder and harder; or stumble and learn; or raise up your fist and strike-but once the idea comes into your head you’ll never be the same again. Oh, test tube of life! Crucible of the South, find the right powder and you’ll never be the same again-the cotton will blaze and the cabins will burn and the chains will be broken and men, all of a sudden, will shakes hands, black men and white men, like steel meeting steel!

Life Is Fine" I went down to the river, I set down on the bank. I tried to think but couldn't, So I jumped in and sank. I came up once and hollered! I came up twice and cried! If that water hadn't a-been so cold I might've sunk and died. But it was Cold in that water! It was cold! I took the elevator Sixteen floors above the ground. I thought about my baby And thought I would jump down. I stood there and I hollered! I stood there and I cried! If it hadn't a-been so high I might've jumped and died. But it was High up there! It was high! So since I'm still here livin', I guess I will live on. I could've died for love-- But for livin' I was born Though you may hear me holler, And you may see me cry-- I'll be dogged, sweet baby, If you gonna see me die. Life is fine! Fine as wine! Life is fine!

To those who lived on the other side of the railroad and never realized the utter stupidity of the word “sin,” the Bottoms was vile and wicked. But to the girls who lived there, and the boys who pimped and fought and sold licker there, “sin” was a silly word that did not enter their heads. They had never looked at life through the spectacles of the Sunday-School. The glasses good people wore wouldn’t have fitted their eyes, for they hung no curtain of words between themselves and reality. To them, things were—what they were.