Quotes from Gwendolyn Brooks

Small Mabel whimpered all night long, For calling herself the cause. Her oak-eyed mother did no thing But change the bloody gauze.

The first night, a rock, big as two fists. The second, a rock big as three. But nary a curse cursed Rudolph Reed. (Though oaken as man could be.) The third night, a silvery ring of glass. Patience arched to endure, But he looked, and lo! small Mabel's blood Was staining her gaze so pure.

Nary a grin grinned Rudolph Reed, Nary a curse cursed he, But moved in his House. With his dark little wife, And his dark little children three.

Rudolph Reed was oaken. His wife was oaken too. And his two good girls and his good little man Oakened as they grew.

Is earnest enough, may earnest attract or lead to light; Is light enough, if hands in clumsy frenzy, flimsy whimsically, enlist; Is light enough when this bewilderment crying against the dark shuts down the shades? Dilute confusion. Find and explode our mist.

Consider the big fists breaking your little bones, or consider the vague bureaucrats stumbling, fumbling through Paper.

I hold my honey and I store my bread In little jars and cabinets of my will. I label clearly, and each latch and lid I bid, Be firm till I return from hell.

And all the little people Will stare at me and say, "That is the Crazy Woman Who would not sing in May."

I shall not sing a May song. A May song should be gay. I'll wait until November And sing a song of gray.

He is not there but You know you are tasting together The winter, or a light spring weather. His hand to take your hand is overmuch. Too much too bear.

To be in love Is to touch with a lighter hand. In yourself you stretch, you are well.

I am interested in telling my particular truth as I have seen it.

Good health is a duty to yourself, to your contemporaries, to your inheritors, to the progress of the world.

What shall I give my children? who are poor,Who are adjudged the leastwise of the land.

The timecracks into furious flower. Lifts its faceall unashamed. And sways in wicked grace.

Big Bessie's feet hurt like nobody's business,but she stands—bigly—under the unruly scrutiny, stands in the wild weed.In the wild weedshe is a citizen.

And remembering…Remembering, with twinklings and twinges,As they lean over the beans in their rented back room that is full of beads and receipts and dolls and cloths, tobacco crumbs, vases and fringes.

With melted opals for my milk, Pearl-leaf for my cracker.

He opened us—who was a key,who was a man.

Abortions will not let you forget.You remember the children you got that you did not get.

Maud went to college.Sadie stayed at home.Sadie scraped lifeWith a fine-tooth comb.

A writer should get as much education as possible, but just going to school is not enough if it were, all owners of doctorates would be inspired writers.

Wherever life can grow, it will. It will sprout out, and do the best it can. I give you what I have. You don't get all your questions answered in this world. How many answers shall be found in the developing world of my Poem? I don't know. Nevertheless I put my Poem, which is my life, into your hands, where it will do the best it can.

My Poem is life, and not finished. It shall never be finished. My Poem is life, and can grow.