A proper autobiography is a death-bed confession. A true man finds so much work to do that he has no time to contemplate his yesterdays; for to-day and to-morrow are here, with their impatient tasks. The world is so busy,… — Mary Antin Copy Share Image
“The world is so busy, too, that it cannot afford to study any man's unfinished work; for the end may prove it a failure, and the world needs masterpieces.” — Mary Antin Copy Share Image
On a royal birthday every house must fly a flag, or the owner would be dragged to a police station and be fined twenty-five… — Mary Antin Copy Share Image
One current of continuity runs underneath all the abortive phases of my life. From childhood on I have been obliged to drop anything I… — Mary Antin Copy Share Image
A proper autobiography is a death-bed confession. A true man finds so much work to do that he has no time to contemplate his… — Mary Antin Copy Share Image
The past was only my cradle, and now it cannot hold me, because I am grown too big. — Mary Antin Copy Share Image
It is painful to be consciously of two worlds. The Wandering Jew in me seeks forgetfulness. I am not afraid to live on and… — Mary Antin Copy Share Image
“The tongue am I of those who lived before me, as those that are to come will be the voice of my unspoken thoughts.… — Mary Antin Copy Share Image
The first meal was an object lesson of much variety. My father produced several kinds of food, ready to eat, without any cooking, from… — Mary Antin Copy Share Image
There was one public school for boys, and one for girls, but Jewish children were admitted in limited numbers - only ten to a… — Mary Antin Copy Share Image
You went up to be examined with the other Jewish children, your heart heavy about that matter of your nose. — Mary Antin Copy Share Image
We are not born all at once, but by bits. The body first, and the spirit later; and the birth and growth of the… — Mary Antin Copy Share Image
As we moved along in a little procession, I was delighted with the illumination of the streets. So many lamps, and they burned until… — Mary Antin Copy Share Image
