The Patriot Blood Of My Father Was

If I Were To Speak Of War, It Would Not Be To Show You The Glories Of Conquering Armies But The Mischief And Misery They Strew In Their Tracks; And How, While They Marched On With Tread Of Iron And Plumes Proudly Tossing In The Breeze, Some One Must Follow Closely In Their Steps, Crouching To The Earth, Toiling In The Rain And Darkness, Shelterless Themselves, With No Thought Of Pride Or Glory, Fame Or Praise, Or Reward; Hearts Breaking With Pity, Faces Bathed In Tears And Hands In Blood. This Is The Side Which History Never Shows.

An Institution Or Reform Movement That Is Not Selfish, Must Originate In The Recognition Of Some Evil That Is Adding To The Sum Of Human Suffering, Or Diminishing The Sum Of Happiness.

A Ball Had Passed Between My Body And The Right Arm Which Supported Him, Cutting Through The Sleeve And Passing Through His Chest From Shoulder To Shoulder. There Was No More To Be Done For Him And I Left Him To His Rest. I Have Never Mended That Hole In My Sleeve.

You Must Never So Much Think As Whether You Like It Or Not, Whether It Is Bearable Or Not; You Must Never Think Of Anything Except The Need, And How To Meet It.

If Woman Alone Had Suffered Under These Mistaken Traditions [of Women's Subordination], If She Could Have Borne The Evil By Herself, It Would Have Been Less Pitiful, But Her Brother Man, In The Laws He Created And Ignorantly Worshipped, Has Suffered With Her. He Has Lost Her Highest Help; He Has Crippled The Intelligence He Needed; He Has Belittled The Very Source Of His Own Being And Dwarfed The Image Of His Maker.