name
of "Whosoever smiteth thee upon one cheek, turn him the other also."
Think of it!

And I saw also the rack, with the windlass and chains, upon which the
sufferer was laid. About his ankles were fastened chains, and about
his wrists also, and then priests began turning this windlass, and they
kept turning until the ankles, the shoulders and the wrists were all
dislocated, and the sufferer was wet with the sweat of agony. And they
had standing by a physician to feel his pulse. What for? To save his
life? Yes. What for? In mercy? No. Simply that they might preserve
his life, that they might rack him once again. And this was
done--recollect it--it was done in the name of civilization, it was
done in the name of law and order, it was done in the name of morality,
it was done in the name of religion, it was done in the name of God.

Sometimes when I get to reading about it, and when I get to thinking
about it, it seems to me that I have suffered all these horrors myself,
as though I had stood upon the shore of exile and gazed with a
tear-filled eye toward home and native land; as though my nails had
been torn from my hands, and into my throat the sharp needles had been
thrust; as though my feet had been crushed in iron boots; as though I
had been chained in the cells of the Inquisition, and had watched and
waited in the interminable darkness to hear the words of release; as
though I had been taken from my fireside, from my wife and children,
and taken to the public square, chained, and fagots had been piled
around me; as though the flames had played around my limbs, and
scorched the sight from my eyes; as though my ashes had been scattered
to the four winds by the hands of hatred; as though I had stood upon
the scaffold and felt the glittering ax fall upon me. And while I feel
and see all this, I swear that while I live I will do what little I can
to augment the liberty of man, woman and child.

My friends, it is all a question of sense; it is all a question of
honesty. If there is a man in this house who is not willing to give to
everybody else what he claims for himself he is just so much nearer to
the barbarian than I am. It is a simple question of honesty; and the
man who is not willing to give to every other human being the same
intellectual rights he claims himself is a rascal, and you know it. It
is a simple question, I say, of intellectual development and of
honesty. And I want to say it now, so