Immigration

(103 votes)   ''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.''

Emma Lazarus

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(86 votes)   Without comprehension, the immigrant would forever remain shut -- a stranger in America. Until America can release the heart as well as train the hand of the immigrant, he would forever remain driven back upon himself, corroded by the very richness of the unused gifts within his soul.

Anzia Yezierska
1885-1970, Polish Writer

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