From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur

It was a long time ago. I have almost forgotten my dream. But it was there then, In front of me, Bright like a sun—

Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:

Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie—woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely:

I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams

'Me an’ ma baby’s Got two mo’ ways, Two mo’ ways to do de Charleston!… Da, da, Da, da, da!

Remember The days of bondage— And remembering— Do not stand still. Go to the highest hill

I’m all alone in this world, she s… Ain’t got nobody to share my bed, Ain’t got nobody to hold my hand— The truth of the matter’s I ain’t got no man.

In the Quarter of the Negroes Where the doors are doors of paper Dust of dingy atoms Blows a scratchy sound. Amorphous jack—o’—Lanterns caper

You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.