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.

Some day the workers will take possession of your city hall, and when we do, no child will be sacrificed on the altar of profit!

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

You ought to be out raising hell. This is the fighting age. Put on your fighting clothes.

Freedom for the working class!

Sometimes it seemed to me I could not look at those silent little figures; that I must go north, to the grim coal fields, to the Rocky Mountain camps, where the labor fight is at least fought by grown men

I preferred sewing to bossing little children.