He did not stay for coffee.
Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings, Her faith, her oaths, her tears and all were jestings.
This was a day almost fifty years since the time I was supposed to run in the 4 by 100-meter Olympic relay. I was standing on the track in the imposing, empty Olympic Stadium in Berlin. […] I walked down into the well of the vast, brooding stadium, and then along the backstretch of the red clay running oval.
The animal informed me that if it were not for the great game of baseball I would be chopping cotton or pushing a broom. And that I was a discredit to my race. By definition, any black hurts his people if he is other than abjectly, supinely, hand-lickingly grateful for having been allowed to earn a decent living.
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