Life comes to the miners out of their deaths, and death out of their lives.
I will tell the truth wherever I please.
I am not blind to the shortcomings of our own people.
Sometimes it seemed to me I could not look at those silent little figures; that I must go north, to the grim coal fields, to the Rocky Mountain camps, where the labor fight is at least fought by grown men.
I’m not a humanitarian. I’m a hell-raiser.
And who is responsible for this appalling child slavery? Everyone.
I am not unaware that leaders betray, and sell out, and play false.
I nursed men back to sanity who were driven to despair. I solicited clothes for the ragged children, for the desperate mothers. I laid out the dead, the martyrs of the strike.
My address is like my shoes. It travels with me.
What one state could not get alone, what one miner against a powerful corporation could not achieve, can be achieved by the union.