American - Author | June 24, 1831 - September 29, 1910
War may be an armed angel with a mission, but she has the personal habits of the slums.
Rebecca Harding Davis
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The only hero known to my childhood was Henry Clay.
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Our young people have come to look upon war as a kind of beneficent deity, which not only adds to the national honor but uplifts a nation and develops patriotism and courage.
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For, after all, put it as we may to ourselves, we are all of us from birth to death guests at a table which we did not spread.
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The sun, the earth, love, friends, our very breath are parts of the banquet.
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Reform is born of need, not pity.
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TO preach a sermon or edit a newspaper were the two things in life which I always felt I could do with credit to myself and benefit to the world, if I only had the chance.
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I went to Concord, a young woman from the backwoods, firm in belief that Emerson was the first of living men. He was the modern Moses who had talked with God apart and could interpret Him to us.
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It has happened to me to meet many of the men of my day whom the world agreed to call great.
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Every child was taught from his cradle that money was Mammon, the chief agent of the flesh and the devil.
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Our village was built on the Ohio River, and was a halting place on this great national road, then the only avenue of traffic between the South and the North.
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It was part of your religion to hate the British.
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