An American Suffragette: A Novel

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W. Rickey, 1911 - 248 ˹éÒ
 

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˹éÒ 237 - As soon as the mid-day task was done, In secret I was there: And a mighty wind had swept the leaves, And still the corse was bare! "Then down I cast me on my face, And first began to weep, For I knew my secret then was one That earth refused to keep: Or land or sea, though he should be Ten thousand fathoms deep.
˹éÒ 72 - ALL that we are is the result of what we have thought : it is founded on our thoughts, it is made up of our thoughts. If a man speaks or acts with an evil thought, pain follows him, as the wheel follows the foot of the ox that draws the carriage.
˹éÒ 212 - The Ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes, But Here or There as strikes the Player goes; And He that toss'd you down into the Field, He knows about it all — HE knows — HE knows!
˹éÒ 103 - On we march then, we the workers, and the rumor that ye hear Is the blended sound of battle and deliv'rance drawing near; For the hope of every creature is the banner that we bear, And the world is marching on.
˹éÒ 151 - There are, then, cases where a fact cannot come at all unless a preliminary faith exists in its coming. And where faith in a fact can help create the fact, that would be an insane logic which should say that faith running ahead of scientific evidence is the lowest kind of immorality' into which a thinking being can fall.
˹éÒ 102 - In what country are they dwelling 'twixt the gates of heaven and hell ? Are they mine or thine for money ? Will they serve a master well ? Still the rumour's marching on. Hark the rolling of the thunder ! Lo the sun ! and lo thereunder Riseth wrath, and hope, and wonder, And the host comes marching on.
˹éÒ 102 - tis worth, For the days are marching on. These are they who build thy houses, weave thy raiment, win thy wheat, Smooth the rugged, fill the barren, turn the bitter into sweet, All for thee this day — and ever. What reward for them is meet, Till the host comes marching on...
˹éÒ 103 - Many a hundred years passed over have they laboured, deaf and blind ; Never tidings reached their sorrow, never hope their toil might find. Now at last they've heard and hear it, and the cry comes down the wind, And their feet are marching on.
˹éÒ 56 - ... Pastorale Peter Hansen was a young American from Illinois. His father was a Swede who had settled in the United States and made good as a stockbroker. Peter was given the best an American youth could desire in the way of schooling and university education, and in due course joined his father's firm. It did not take him long to discover that he was not meant for business. His spirit of adventure felt cramped in horizons clogged with sky-scrapers. He yearned for the wide open spaces and wanted...

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