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Harriet Beecher Stowe
I would at times feel that learning to read had been a curse rather than a blessing, without the remedy. It opened my eyes to the horrible pit, but to no ladder upon which to get out. In moments of agony, I envied my fellow-slaves for their stupidity. I have often wished myself a beast. I preferred the condition of the meanest reptile to my own. Any thing, no matter what, to get ride of thinking! It was this everlasting thinking of my condition that tormented me. There was no getting rid of it. It was pressed up me by my every object within sight or hearing, animate or inanimate. The silver trump of freedom had roused my soul to eternal wakefulness. Freedom now appeared, to disappear no more forever.
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