Fugitive Slaves Were Rare Then, And As

A Little Learning, Indeed, May Be A Dangerous Thing, But The Want Of Learning Is A Calamity To Any People.

I Have No Protection At Home, Or Resting Place Abroad. ... I Am An Outcast From The Society Of My Childhood, And An Outlaw In The Land Of My Birth. I Am A Stranger With Thee, And A Sojourner As All My Fathers Were.

These Were Choice Documents To Me... They Gave Tongue To Interesting Thoughts Of My Own Soul, Which Had Frequently Flashed Through My Mind, And Died Away For Want Of Utterance.

Neither We, Nor Any Other People, Will Ever Be Respected Till We Respect Ourselves And We Will Never Respect Ourselves Till We Have The Means To Live Respectfully.

It Is The Mission Of The Printer To Diffuse Light And Knowledge By A Judicious Intermingling Of Black With White.