Childhood is a time of sunny days. Sweet breezes blow friendly cloud shapes across the deep blue sky. The days are never-ending-joy?óÔé¼ÔÇØa black canvas to paint with beautiful memories - - unless your childhood was Richard Wright's. His youth was a cold bleak existence, carved with hatred and overlaid with hunger. There seemed to be little hope for one born to such a lot. For it was not to the caring bosom of his family that Richard could turn. And the hard, unfeeling eyes of the world were turned away from him. It was a great feat that could struggle...
They were the last few feet of a very long trail and seemed to be worth it, or were they? It took Richard many months to recover from the pain he learned accompanies crime, which the reader that somewhere in life, Richard acquired a conscience that could distinguish between right and wrong.

So perhaps it was hereditary, or maybe it came from the books he read, but more likely it was his experiences that provided that beautifully varied used to shape Richard's personality. And somehow, though these events, Richard Wright created a masterpiece we gaze in wonder at today.