I Have A Rendezvous With

All Day Long And All Night Through, One Thing Only Must I Do: Quench My Pride And Cool My Blood, Lest I Perish In The Flood.

The Key To All Strange Things Is In Thy Heart..../ My Spirit Has Come Home, That Sailed The Doubtful Seas.

The Loss Of Love Is A Terrible Thing; They Lie Who Say That Death Is Worse.

[w]e Have Always Resented The Natural Inclination Of Most White People To Demand Spirituals The Moment It Is Known That A Negro Is About To Sing. So Often The Request Has Seemed To Savor Of The Feeling That We Could Do This And This Alone.

What Is Last Year's Snow To Me, Last Year's Anything? The Tree Budding Yearly Must Forget How Its Past Arose Or Set