In Order That She May

Pain Has No Effect But To Steal Some Of My Time.

Everywhere The Fatal Spirit Of Imitation, Of Reference To European Standards, Penetrates And Threatens To Blight Whatever Of Original Growth Might Adorn The Soil.

Every Fact Is Impure, But Every Fact Contains In It The Juices Of Life. Every Fact Is A Clod, From Which May Grow An Amaranth Or A Palm.

There Exists In The Minds Of Men A Tone Of Feeling Toward Women As Toward Slaves.

Put Up At The Moment Of Greatest Suffering A Prayer, Not For Thy Own Escape, But For The Enfranchisement Of Some Being Dear To Thee, And The Sovereign Spirit Will Accept Thy Ransom.