Frederick Douglass: “May He not, for wise ends, have doomed me to this lot?”

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

We (the people of the North) are a charitable people, and in the excess of this feeling we were disposed to put the very best construction upon the strange behavior of our southern brethren.

Food to the indolent is poison, not sustenance.

A son of toil himself, he was linked in brotherly sympathy with the sons of toil in every loyal part of the republic.