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His voice was as sharp as the edge of a knife and he had no time for such foolishness as sentiment, as love.
Agnes Smedley, Daughter of Earth, The Feminist Press, New York, 1973, p. 269.
TIME: Before W.W.II
PLACE: New York.
CIRCUMSTANCE: the voice of her master-teacher, an East-Indian.
I objected to this attack upon a man who to me seemed little less than a God, but Juan turned to me and said that a pea in an empty gourd makes a loud clatter!
Agnes Smedley, Daughter of Earth, The Feminist Press, New York, 1973, p. 271.
TIME: before W.W.II
PLACE: New York, U.S.A.
An inner barred door was unlocked and I was pushed into a tiny cell. The bundle of keys at her belt changed and sent a shock through me as they struck the iron bars. Then the door closed with a resounding clang and I was alone... I listened... a faint tapping came from above somewhere... far away amid the rumbling on the bridge, someone was hammering... on steel it must be... perhaps a workman on the bridge. What had he done to gain the right to freedom... sitting up there high in the air like a bird!
... I walked.... down the dark, silent corridor someone else began walking! I stopped...it stopped! From afar came the tapping. Perhaps the man would hear - he was a working man and would help me. I called aloud... down the corridor my voice echoed and re-echoed, crowding back in through the door and shouting in my ears.
Agnes Smedley, Daughter of Earth, The Feminist Press, New York, 1973, p. 310-312.
TIME: 1945
PLACE: New York, U.S.A.
CIRCUMSTANCE: in prison.
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