W.E.B. Du Bois: “In its place stood Progress; and Progress, I understand, is necessarily ugly.”

In song and exhortation swelled one refrain—Liberty; in his tears and curses the God he implored had Freedom in his right hand.

By 1830 slavery seemed hopelessly fastened on the South, and the slaves thoroughly cowed into submission.

Alas, with the years all this fine contempt began to fade; for the words I longed for, and all their dazzling opportunities, were theirs, not mine.

The ballot, which before he had looked upon as a visible sign of freedom, he now regarded as the chief means of gaining and perfecting the liberty with which war had partially endowed him.