We want rights. The flour merchant, the house-builder, and the postman charge us no less on account of … - Lucy Stone

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The visible exhausts me. I am dissolved in shadow.

Lucy Stone

We want rights. The flour merchant, the house-builder, and the postman charge us no less on account of our sex; but when we endeavor to earn money to pay all these, then, indeed, we find the interest.

Account, Flour, House, Pay, Rights, Sex

Same Author Quotes

If, while I hear the wild shriek of the slave mother robbed of her little ones, I do not open my mouth, am I not guilty?

Children, Guilt, Mother, Ones, Robbed, Shriek

I believe that the influence of woman will save the country before every other power.

Believe, Country, I Believe, Power, Save

We ask only for justice and equal rights-the right to vote, the right to our own earnings, equality before the law.

Ask, Earnings, Equal, Justice, Law, Rights

Now all we need is to continue to speak the truth fearlessly, and we shall add to our number those who will turn the scale to the side of equal and full justice in all things.

Fearless, Fearlessly, Justice, Numbers, Things, Turn

A wife should no more take her husband's name than he should hers. My name is my identity and must not be lost

Husband, Name, Names, Take, Wife

Similar Quotes

Anna Deavere Smith

They say that art should stand the test of time. Life lasts a limited amount of time. Mountains and trees and earth will outlive human beings, but we don't know if they will be here always. Art does outlast the life span of its maker. Art should communicate to an increasing circle of strangers-people who do not know the artist, but come to know the work, and through the work, come to know something about the humanity of the artist that rings with their own humanity.

Art, Circles, Increasing, Know, Mountains, People

Alfred Lord Tennyson

In time there is no present, In eternity no future, In eternity no past.

Eternity, Future, Past, Present, Time

Alan Lightman

One cannot walk down an avenue, converse with a friend, enter a building, browse beneath the sandstone arches of an old arcade without meeting an instrument of time. Time is visible in all places. Clock towers, wristwatches, church bells divide years into months, months into days, days into hours, hours into seconds, each increment of time marching after the other in perfect succession. And beyond any particular clock, a vast scaffold of time, stretching across the universe, lays down the law of time equally for all.

Across, Building, Law, Sandstone, Time, Years

Melina Marchetta

I don't say anything and he casually leans against my desk, picking up the novel that's sitting there. "It's bullshit," he tells me, flicking through it. "There's no such thing as Atticus Finch. " I shrug. "It'd be nice if there was, though.

Nice, Bullshit, Say Anything, Say, Finch

Theodore Roethke