There have been hours in my unhappy life, many of them, when the contemplation of death as the end of earthly sorrow - of the grave as a resting place for the tired and worn out body - has been pleasant to dwell upon.

I could not comprehend the justice of that law, or that religion, which upholds or recognizes the principle of slavery.

I can speak of slavery only so far as it came under my own observation - only so far as I have known and experienced it in my own person.

What difference is there in the color of the soul?

My back is thick with scars for protesting my freedom.

Life is dear to every living thing; the worm that crawls upon the ground will struggle for it.

They are deceived who flatter themselves that the ignorant and debased slave has no conception of the magnitude of his wrongs. They are deceived who imagine that he arises from his knees with back lacerated and bleeding, cherishing only a spirit of meekness and forgiveness. A day may come - it will, if his prayer is heard. A terrible day of vengeance when the master in his turn will cry in vain for mercy.