43 Quotes by Countee Cullen

The night whose sable breast relieves the stark, White stars, is no less lovely being dark

The loss of love is a terrible thing; They lie who say that death is worse.

I doubt not God is good, well-meaning, kind

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.

I cut my teeth as the black raccoon-- For implements of battle.

Whatever lives is granted breath But by the grace and sufferance of Death.

Never love with all your heart, It only ends in aching.

What is Africa to me: Copper sun or scarlet sea, Jungle star or jungle track, Strong bronzed men, or regal black Women from whose loins I sprang When the birds of Eden sang?

We were not made to eternally weep.