All art is a kind of confession, more or less oblique. All artists, if they are to survive, are forced, at last, to tell the whole story; to vomit the anguish up.
James BaldwinTags: art expression survival james-baldwin nausea vomit
Whose little boy are you?
James BaldwinTags: god youth religion church black epiphany james-baldwin racism coming-of-age african-american renaissance harlem institution
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