Gwendolyn Brooks Quotes

I believe it was a good job, Despite this possible horror: that they might prefer the Preservation of their law in all its sick dignity and their knives To the continuation of their creed And their lives.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "Negro Hero."
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... dusky folk, so clamorous! So colorfully incorrect, So amorous, So flatly brave!
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "VII. I love those little booths at Benvenuti's...."
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I loved. And a man will guard when he loves. Their white-gowned democracy was my fair lady. With her knife lying cold, straight, in the softness of her sweet-flowing sleeve.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "Negro Hero."
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Nobody is saying that these people do not ultimately cease to be. And Sometimes their passings are even more painful than ours. It is just that so often they live till their hair is white. They make excellent corpses, among the expensive flowers. . . .
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "VIII. Beverly Hills, Chicago."
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I had to kick their law into their teeth in order to save them. However I have heard that sometimes you have to deal Devilishly with drowning men in order to swim them to shore. Or they will haul themselves and you to the trash and the fish beneath.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), African American poet and fiction writer. "Negro Hero," lines 1-4 (1945). Of an African American man who saved the lives of whites.
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We do not want them to have less. But it is only natural that we should think we have not enough. We drive on, we drive on. When we speak to each other our voices are a little gruff.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "VIII. Beverly Hills, Chicago."
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But can see better there, and laughing there Pity the giants wallowing on the plain. ... Pygmies expand in cold impossible air, Cry fie on the giantshine, poor glory which Pounds breast-bone punily, screeches, and has Reached no Alps: or, knows no Alps to reach.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), African American American poet and fiction writer. "Notes from the Childhood and the Girlhood: 'pygmies are pygmies still, though percht on Alps'," lines 1-2 and 5-8 (1949).
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We say ourselves fortunate to be driving by today. That we may look at them, in their gardens where The summer ripeness rots. But not raggedly. Even the leaves fall down in lovelier patterns here.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "VIII. Beverly Hills, Chicago."
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Swing low swing low sweet sweet chariot. Nothing but a plain black boy.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "Of De Witt Williams on his way to Lincoln Cemetery."
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She fights with semi-folded arms, Her strong bag, and the stiff Frost of her face (that challenges "When" and "If.") And altogether she does Rather Well.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "Weaponed woman."
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