The overwork, and the brutal chastisements of which I was the victim, combined with that ever-gnawing and soul-devouring thought—“I am a slave—a slave for life—a slave with no rational ground to hope for freedom”—rendered me a living embodiment of mental and physical wretchedness.
From his autobiography, detailing the cumulative psychological and physical torment of his enslavement under Covey.
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A son of toil himself, he was linked in brotherly sympathy with the sons of toil in every loyal part of the republic.
Our very lack of preparation for the conflict disposed us to look for some other than the way of blood out of the difficulty.
It was perhaps better for the country and for mankind that the good man could not know the end from the beginning.