The slavery at Bufford's was too fresh in my recollection to let me care to bind myself again. From the time that I took my nose off that lithographic stone, I have had no master, and never shall have any.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I'm not a slave to anything anymore. And I never will be again.
For years, my master had done his utmost to pollute my mind with foul images, and to destroy the pure principles inculcated by my grandmother, and the good mistress of my childhood.
I didn't know I was a slave until I found out I couldn't do the things I wanted.
I've always been a slave to my heart.
Would any one believe that I am master of slaves by my own purchase? I am drawn along by the general inconvenience of living without them.
I sedulously refrained from doing anything that would incite slaves to run away from their masters.
Being a part of '12 Years a Slave' has been one of the most profound experiences of my life.
Pale hands I loved beside the Shalimar, where are you now? Who lies beneath your spell?
The art of being a slave is to rule one's master.
But I now entered on my fifteenth year - a sad epoch in the life of a slave girl. My master began to whisper foul words in my ear. Young as I was, I could not remain ignorant of their import.