What did I know, what did I know of love's austere and lonely offices? — Robert Hayden Copy Share Image
It seemed to me as we were talking about Christ rising from the dead, the sun popped over the mountain. That was indicative of… — Robert Hayden Copy Share Image
This freedom, this liberty, this beautiful and terrible thing, needful to man as air, usable as earth. — Robert Hayden Copy Share Image
Midnight Special on a sabre track movering movering, first stop Mercy and the last Hallelujah. — Robert Hayden Copy Share Image
As well have a talon as a finger, a muzzle as a mouth, as well have a hollow as a heart. — Robert Hayden Copy Share Image
Standing to America, bringing home black gold, black ivory, black seed. — Robert Hayden Copy Share Image
We must not be frightened nor cajoled into accepting evil as deliverance from evil. We must go on struggling to be human, though monsters… — Robert Hayden Copy Share Image
Harriet Tubman, woman of earth, whipscarred, a summoning, a shinning — Robert Hayden Copy Share Image
Runs falls rises stumbles on from darkness into darkness and the darkness thicketed with shapes of terror and the hunters pursuing and the hounds… — Robert Hayden Copy Share Image
Art is not escape, but a way of finding order in chaos, a way of confronting life. — Robert Hayden Copy Share Image
Shuttles in the rocking loom of history, the dark ships move, the dark ships move, their bright ironical names like jests of kindness on… — Robert Hayden Copy Share Image
“We must not be frightened nor cajoled into accepting evil as deliverance from evil. We must go on struggling to be human, though monsters… — Robert Hayden Copy Share Image
“Unable to sleep, or pray, I stand by the window looking out at moonstruck trees a December storm has bowed with ice. Maple and… — Robert Hayden Copy Share Image
I believe it's true that one person can make a difference. But how much more difference 100 people make, or rather 99. — Robert Hayden Copy Share Image
“O Jesus burning on the lily cross... O night, rawhead and bloodybones night... O night betrayed by darkness not its own.” — Robert Hayden Copy Share Image
Your presence was shore where I rested/ released from the hoodoo of that dance, where I spoke/ with my true voice again. — Robert Hayden Copy Share Image
