If any of us hopes to survive, s/he must meet the extremity of the American female condition with immediate and political response.... The thoroughly destructive and indefensible subjugation of the majority of Americans cannot continue except at the peril of the entire body politic.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The principle of majority rule is the mildest form in which the force of numbers can be exercised. It is a pacific substitute for ...civil war in which the opposing armies are counted and the victory is awarded to the larger before any blood is shed. Except in the sacred tests of democracy and in the incantations of the orators, we hardly take the trouble to pretend that the rule of the majority is not at bottom a rule of force.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past,... I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste. Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow. For precious friends hid in death's dateless night And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe, And moan th' expense of many a vanish'd sight. Then can I grieve at grievances foregone. And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before. But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restor'd and sorrows end.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Give me the splendid silent sun with all his beams full-dazzling,... Give me juicy autumnal fruit ripe and red from the orchard, Give me a field where the unmow'd grass grows, Give me an arbor, give me the trellis'd grape, Give me fresh corn and wheat, give me serene-moving animals teaching content,LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
(O I see what I sought to escape, confronting, reversing my cries, I see my own soul trampling down what it ask'd for.)...
Keep your splendid silent sun, Keep your woods O Nature, and the quiet places by the woods, Keep your fields of clover and timothy, and your corn-fields and orchards, Keep the blossoming buckwheat fields where the Ninth-month bees hum; Give me faces and streets--give me these phantoms incessant and endless along the trottoirs!LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »