I Never Saw A Man

Aye, You White Dog, You Are Like All Your Race; But To A Black Man Gold Can Never Pay For Blood.

All Fled—all Done, So Lift Me On The Pyre— The Feast Is Over, And The Lamps Expire.

Time And Times Are But Cogwheels, Unmatched, Grinding On Oblivious To One Another. Occasionally - Oh, Very Rarely! - The Cogs Fit; The Pieces Of The Plot Snap Together Momentarily And Give Men Faint Glimpses Beyond The Veil Of This Everyday Blindness We Call Reality.

I Had Neither Expert Aid Nor Advice. I Studied No Courses In Writing; Until A Year Or So Ago, I Never Read A Book By Anybody Advising Writers How To Write.

Never The Less, At The Age Of Fifteen, Having Never Seen A Writer, A Poet, A Publisher Or A Magazine Editor, And Having Only The Vaguest Ideas Of Procedure, I Began Working On The Profession I Had Chosen.