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But I think I can sincerely declare that I cheerfully submit myself to every odious name for conscience' sake; and from my soul I despise all those whose guilt, malice, or folly has made them my foes.

Let Justice, blind and halt and maimed, chastise the rebel spirit surging in my veins, let the Law deal me penalties and pains And make me hideous in my neighbours' eyes.

Wickedness is its own punishment.

Unjust. How many times I've used that word, scolded myself with it. All I mean by it now is that I don't have the final courage to say that I refuse to preside over violations against myself, and to hell with justice.

I'm demanding to be prosecuted. I'm begging to be prosecuted for perjury.

It is a fact that cannot be denied: the wickedness of others becomes our own wickedness because it kindles something evil in our own hearts.

I have sworn upon the altar of God, eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man.

It is right noble to fight with wickedness and wrong; the mistake is in supposing that spiritual evil can be overcome by physical means.

There are certain wicked people in the world that you can't deal with except by force.

I've been in revolt for years against ignominy, against injustice, against inequality, against immorality, against the exploitation of human beings.