Historical voices

That cheerful eye, under the influence of slavery, soon became red with rage; that voice, made all of sweet accord, changed to one of harsh and horrid discord; and that angelic face gave place to that of a demon.

The fatal poison of irresponsible power was already in her hands, and soon commenced its infernal work.

The meanest slave was put fully at ease in her presence, and none left without feeling better for having seen her.

She did not deem it impudent or unmannerly for a slave to look her in the face.

The crouching servility, usually so acceptable a quality in a slave, did not answer when manifested toward her.

I prefer to be true to myself, even at the hazard of incurring the ridicule of others, rather than to be false, and incur my own abhorrence.

But I should be false to the earliest sentiments of my soul, if I suppressed the opinion.

I may be deemed superstitious, and even egotistical, in regarding this event as a special interposition of divine Providence in my favor.

I have ever regarded it as the first plain manifestation of that kind providence which has ever since attended me, and marked my life with so many favors.

Going to live at Baltimore laid the foundation, and opened the gateway, to all my subsequent prosperity.

I look upon my departure from Colonel Lloyd’s plantation as one of the most interesting events of my life.

It was a new and strange sight to me, brightening up my pathway with the light of happiness.

And here I saw what I had never seen before; it was a white face beaming with the most kindly emotions; it was the face of my new mistress, Sophia Auld.

I left without a regret, and with the highest hopes of future happiness.

So strong was my desire, that I thought a gratification of it would fully compensate for whatever loss of comforts I should sustain by the exchange.

If, however, I found in my new home hardship, hunger, whipping, and nakedness, I had the consolation that I should not have escaped any one of them by staying.

My home was charmless; it was not home to me; on parting from it, I could not feel that I was leaving any thing which I could have enjoyed by staying.

The ties that ordinarily bind children to their homes were all suspended in my case.

I went at it in good earnest, working for the first time with the hope of reward.

He that ate fastest got most; he that was strongest secured the best place; and few left the trough satisfied.

My feet have been so cracked with the frost, that the pen with which I am writing might be laid in the gashes.

I must have perished with cold, but that, the coldest nights, I used to steal a bag which was used for carrying corn to the mill.

In hottest summer and coldest winter, I was kept almost naked—no shoes, no stockings, no jacket, no trousers, nothing on but a coarse tow linen shirt, reaching only to my knees.

It was a common saying, even among little white boys, that it was worth a half-cent to kill a “nigger,” and a half-cent to bury one.