If they want to hang me, let them. And on the scaffold I will shout Freedom for the working class!
Mourn the dead, fight like hell for the living
I preferred sewing to bossing little children.
I was born in revolution.
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
Men's hearts are cold. They are indifferent.