“It is hard for the old slave holding spirit to die. But die it must.”

The Spirit calls me, and I must go.

If women want any rights more than they’s got, why don’t they just take them, and not be talking about it?

I am glad to see that men are getting their rights, but I want women to get theirs, and while the water is stirring, I will step into the pool.

And ar’n’t I a woman?

Those are the same stars, and that is the same moon, that look down upon your brothers and sisters, and which they see as they look up to them, though they are ever so far away from us, and each other.

Then I will speak upon the ashes.

It is the mind that makes the body.

Then that little man in black there, he says women can’t have as much rights as men, ’cause Christ wasn’t a woman! Where did your Christ come from? Where did Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with Him.

Truth is powerful and it prevails.

Obliged to you for hearing me, and now old Sojourner ain’t got nothing more to say.

Truth burns up error.

I am not going to die, I’m going home like a shooting star.

Religion without humanity is very poor human stuff.

I don’t read such small stuff as letters, I read men and nations. I can see through a millstone, though I can’t see through a spelling-book. What a narrow idea a reading qualification is for a voter!

When I left the house of bondage I left everything behind. I wanted to keep nothing of Egypt on me, and so I went to the Lord and asked him to give me a new name.

You have been having our rights so long, that you think, like a slave-holder, that you own us. I know that it is hard for one who has held the reins for so long to give up; it cuts like a knife. It will feel all the better when it closes up again.

Sometimes you have to chop off the dead ends so that you can continue To grow in a healthy direction.

A warrior that never stops. A fire in mind, forever fighting. No surrender during war or peace. Only in death the sweet release, finally subsiding.

When all has failed and you have given up, And not a glint left in your eye. Pick yourself up and start again, Say to yourself: “life is short and one day I’m going to die”

happy life and merciful death

The man who dies rich, dies disgraced

I put for a general inclination of all mankind, a perpetual and restless desire of power, that ceases only in death.

When suicide is out of fashion we conclude that none but madmen destroy themselves.

She was living with a dead hope like a mother patting her still born.