Today the white child is sold for two dollars a week to the manufacturers.

I'm not afraid of the press or the Militia.

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

I know that there are no limits to which the powers of privilege will not go to keep the workers in slavery

My address is like my shoes. It travels with me. I abide where there is a fight against wrong.

Injustice boils in men's hearts as does steel in its cauldron, ready to pour forth, white hot, in the fullness of time.

Out of labor's struggle in Arizona came better conditions for the workers, who must everywhere, at all times, under advantage and disadvantage work out their own salvation