Quotes by Lazarus, Emma

Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp! cries she with silent lips. Gi >>

Quotations about Immigration

The making of an American begins at the point where he himself rejects >>

Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp! cries she with silent lips. Gi >>

There is nothing less to our credit than our neglect of the foreigner >>

Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp! cries she with silent lips. Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me; I lift my lamp beside the golden door.

Lazarus, Emma