“My negritude is not a stone, its deafness hurled against the clamor of the day my negritude is not a leukoma of dead liquid over the earth's dead eye my negritude is neither tower nor cathedral it takes root in the red flesh of the soil it takes root in the ardent flesh of the sky it breaks through opaque prostration with its upright patience.” Black AuthorsCaribbean LiteratureAfrican DiasporaPostcolonial LiteratureNegritude Book:Notebook of a Return to the Native Land Source: Notebook of a Return to the Native Land