I die, as I have lived, a free spirit, an Anarchist, owing no allegiance to rulers, heavenly or earthly. - Voltairine de Cleyre

And sometimes when I am weary, When the path is thorny and Wild, I'll look back to the Eyes in the twilight, Back to the eyes that smiled. And pray that a wreath like a rainbow May slip from the beautiful past, And Crown me again with the sweet, strong love And keep me, and hold me fast.

Gods of the World! Their mouths are dumb! Your guns have spoken and they are dust. But the shrouded Living, whose hearts were numb, have felt the beat of a wakening drum Within them sounding — the Dead men’s tongue — Calling: "Smite off the ancient rust!" Have beheld "Resurrexit," the word of the Dead, Written-in-red.

O height and depth of purity, which fears so much that the children will not know who their fathers are, because, forsooth, they must rely upon their mother's word instead of the hired certification of some priest of the Church, or the Law! I wonder if the children would be improved to know what their fathers have done. I would rather, much rather, not know who my father was than know he had been a tyrant to my mother. I would rather, much rather, be illegitimate according to the statutes of men, than illegitimate according to the unchanging law of Nature.