There Are Wrongs Which Even

I Can Testify, From My Own Experience And Observation, That Slavery Is A Curse To The Whites As Well As To The Blacks. It Makes The White Fathers Cruel And Sensual; The Sons Violent And Licentious; It Contaminates The Daughters, And Makes The Wives Wretched. And As For The Colored Race, It Needs An Abler Pen Than Mine To Describe The Extremity Of Their Sufferings, The Depth Of Their Degradation.

There Are Wrongs Which Even The Grave Does Not Bury.

For Years, My Master Had Done His Utmost To Pollute My Mind With Foul Images, And To Destroy The Pure Principles Inculcated By My Grandmother, And The Good Mistress Of My Childhood

I Was Ordered To Go For Flowers, That My Mistress's House Might Be Decorated For An Evening Party. I Spent The Day Gathering Flowers And Weaving Them Into Festoons, While The Dead Body Of My Father Was Lying Within A Mile Of Me. What Cared My Owners For That? He Was Merely A Piece Of Property. Moreover, They Thought He Had Spoiled His Children, By Teaching Them To Feel That They Were Human Beings. This Was Blasphemous Doctrine For A Slave To Teach; Presumptuous In Him, And Dangerous To The Masters.

There Is Something Akin To Freedom In Having A Lover Who Has No Control Over You, Except That Which He Gains By Kindness And Attachment.