Provoking, isn't it? that when one is most in need of sensible words, one finds them not.

At times I feel it almost impossible not to despond entirely of there ever being a better, brighter day for us. None but those who experience it can know what it is - this constant, galling sense of cruel injustice and wrong. I cannot help feeling it very often, - it intrudes upon my happiest moments, and spreads a dark, deep gloom over everything.

Provoking, isn't it? that when one is most in need of sensible words, one finds them not.

hatred of oppression seems to me so blended with hatred of the oppressor that I cannot separate them. I feel that no other injury could be so hard to bear, so very very hard to forgive, as that inflicted by cruel oppression and prejudice.