The Intolerance Of The Few,

The Talents Of An Artist, Small Or Great, Are God-given. They've Nothing To Do With The Private Person; They're Nothing To Be Proud Of. They're Just A Sacred Trust... Having Been Given, I Must Give. Man Shall Not Live By Bread Alone, And What The Farmer Does I Must Do. I Must Feed The People - With My Songs.

Yes, I Heard My People Singing!-in The Glow Of Parlor Coal-stove And On Summer Porches Sweet With Lilac Air, From Choir Loft And Sunday Morning Pews-and My Soul Was Filled With Their Harmonies. Then, Too, I Heard These Songs In The Very Sermons Of My Father, For In The Negro's Speech There Is Much Of The Phrasing And Rhythms Of Folk-song. The Great, Soaring Gospels We Love Are Merely Sermons That Are Sung; And As We Thrill To Such Gifted Gospel Singers As Mahalia Jackson, We Hear The Rhythmic Eloquence Of Our Preachers, So Many Of Whom, Like My Father, Are Masters Of Poetic Speech.

The Artist Must Elect To Fight For Freedom Or For Slavery.

Sometimes Great Injustices May Be Inflicted On The Minority When The Majority Is In The Pursuit Of A Great And Just Cause.

I Did A Long Concert Tour In England And Denmark And Sweden, And I Also Sang For The Soviet People, One Of The Finest Musical Audiences In The World.