I can never see a poor mutilated wreck, blown to pieces with powder and lead, without wondering if visions of such an end ever floated before his mother’s mind when she washed and dressed her fair-skinned boy. Clara Barton.
When giant misery stalks to the very threshold, and raps with bloody hands on one’s door, it is almost a libel upon the good Christian term to call it charity that answers. Clara Barton.
Women should certainly have some voice in the matter of war, either affirmative or negative, and the fact that she has not this should not be made the ground to deprive her of other privileges.
Clara Barton.
“They say”:
Imagine their skirts ’mong artillery wheels,
And watch for their flutter as they flee ’cross the fields,
When the charge is rammed home and the fire belches hot;—
They never will wait for the answering shot.
They would faint at the first drop of blood in sight—