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Gracie: [In native language to her cousins] New clothes!
Miss Jessop: This is your new home. We don't use that jabber here. You speak English.
Miss Jessop: This is your new home. We don't use that jabber here. You speak English.
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I'm authorizing their removal.
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If only they would understand what we are trying to do for them.
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It's the law, Maude. Got no say in it.
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Just because people have Neolithic tools, Inspector, doesn't mean they have Neolithic minds.
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Notice, if you will, the half-caste child. Now, what is to happen to them? Are we to allow the creation of an unwanted third race? Should colours be encouraged to go back to the black? Or should they be advanced to white status and be absorbed in the white population?
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She's pretty clever, that girl. She wants to go home. Yes she does
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The continuing infiltration of white blood finally stamps out the black colour.
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This is a true story - story of my sister Daisy, my cousin Gracie and me when we were little. Our people, the Jigalong mob, we were desert people then, walking all over our land. My mum told me about how the white people came to our country. They made a storehouse here at Jigalong - brought clothes and other things - flour, tobacco, tea. Gave them to us on ration day. We came there, made a camp nearby. They were building a long fence.