Anzia Yezierska
Anzia Yezierska
Anzia Yezierskawas a Jewish-American novelist born in Mały Płock, Poland, which was then part of the Russian Empire. She emigrated as a child with her parents to the United States, and lived in the immigrant neighborhood of the Lower East Side of Manhattan...
NationalityPolish
ProfessionNovelist
CountryPoland
thinking light obsessed
I was so obsessed and consumed with my grievances that I could not get away from myself and think things out in the light. I was in the grip of that blinding, destructive, terrible thing -- righteous indignation.
passion men light
This fire in me, it's not just the hunger of a woman for a man - it's the hunger of all my people back of me, from all ages, for light, for the life higher!
children loneliness world
I'm one of the millions of immigrant children, children of loneliness, wandering between worlds that are at once too old and too new to live in.
heart artist chance
The only compensation for the artist is the chance to feed hungry hearts.
education wall disappointment
At last I came to college. I rushed for it with the outstretched arms of youth's aching hunger to give and take of life's deepest, and highest, and I came against the solid wall of the well-fed, well-dressed world - the frigid whitewashed wall of cleanliness. ... How I pinched, and scraped, and starved myself, to save enough to come to college! Every cent of the tuition fee I paid was drops of sweat and blood from underpaid laundry work. And what did I get for it? A crushed spirit, a broken heart, a stinging sense of poverty that I never felt before.
bird fruit flight
The power that makes grass grow, fruit ripen, and guides the bird in flight is in us all.
money america united-states
In America, money takes the place of God.
dream people
Like all people who have nothing, I lived on dreams.
heart dumb understanding
As one of the dumb, voiceless ones I speak. One of the millions of immigrants beating, beating out their hearts at your gates for a breath of understanding.
heart hands america
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.
wings world forget
When I only begin to read, I forget I'm on this world. It lifts me on wings with high thoughts.
ages century children polish-novelist twentieth
The trouble with us is that the ghetto of the Middle Ages and the children of the twentieth century have to live under one roof.