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43 BLaCk Boy RichardWright The beginning was only loneliness aching long and into script. It served me so well I would not call it grief. You see what I have become?This, then, is something like an answer. It fed me. How could I call it pain? Do not regret the mortar if the wall’s built well. Speculation won’t win you wisdom, friend. You still want to know what I pray? That is all you want to know. What do I ask of God? Give me a book they will talk well about forever? Books. Who is in them who can touch me? My books, my house, my hopes, my heart, all these I owe to nothing. Give me anything but that. ...

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