Frederick Douglass: “Action! not criticism, is the plain duty of this hour.”

Treason had shot its poisonous roots deeper, and had spread its death-dealing branches further than any northern calculation had covered.

For the moment the northern lamb was transformed into a lion, and his roar was terrible.

Father he might be, and not be husband, and could sell his own child without incurring reproach, if in its veins coursed one drop of African blood.

That the mother was a slave was enough for its deadly purpose.