Life comes to the miners out of their deaths, and death out of their lives.
From Mary Harris Jones
I would fight God Almighty Himself if He didn't play square with me.
Reformation, like education, is a journey, not a destination.
I am not blind to the shortcomings of our own people.
In Georgia where children work day and night in the cotton mills they have just passed a bill to protect song birds. What about the little children from whom all song is gone?
I went West and took part in the strike of the machinists - the Southern Pacific Railroad, the corporation that swung California by its golden tail, that controlled its legislature, its farmers, its preachers, its workers.
Little girls and boys, barefooted, walked up and down between the endless rows of spindles, reaching thin little hands into the machinery to repair snapped threads.
And who is responsible for this appalling child slavery? Everyone.
I'm not a humanitarian. I'm a hell-raiser.
My address is like my shoes. It travels with me.
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