The Man Who, For Party, Forsakes Righteousness,

Liberty Knows Nothing But Victories. Soldiers Call Bunker Hill A Defeat; But Liberty Dates From It Though Warren Lay Dead On The Field.

Politics Is But The Common Pulse-beat, Of Which Revolution Is The Fever-spasm.

How Prudently Most Men Creep Into Nameless Graves, While Now And Then One Or Two Forget Themselves Into Immortality.

Organize, And Stand Together. Claim Something Together, And At Once; Let The Nation Hear A United Demand From The Laboring Voice, And Then, When You Have Got That, Go On After Another; But Get Something.

Boredom, After All, Is A Form Of Criticism.