This is our home and this is our country. Beneath its soil lie bones of our fathers; for it some of them fought, bled, and died. Here we were born and here we will stay.

Freedom is a hard-bought thing and millions are in chains, but they strain toward the new day drawing near.

We [must] realize that our future lies chiefly in our own hands.

Get them to sing your song and they will want to know who you are.

My future depends mostly upon myself.

At every step the vast majority have expressed horror at the idea of an aggressive war.

Yes, I heard my people singing!-in the glow of parlor coal-stove and on summer porches sweet with lilac air, from choir loft and Sunday morning pews-and my soul was filled with their harmonies.