Invisible Man

by Ralph Ellison

refusing the sacred flesh and dancing in the earth

I too had touched a white man today and I felt that it had been disastrous, and

“Identity! My God! Who has any identity

“I can see you one of these old-fashioned yam eaters.” “They’re my birthmark,” I said. “I yam what I am!”

what discipline is, Brother Personal Responsibility?

The hibernation is over. I must shake off the old skin and come up for breath.