If We Are To Be Happy, Decent

I Put My Pencil Upon The Paper, Doubtfully, And Drew Little Lines, Considering My Theme. But I Would Not Long Hesitate In This Manner, For I Knew That All Creation Must Be Chaos First, And Then Gestures In The Void Before It Can Cast Out The Completed Thing.

It Seems To Be Saying Perpetually; 'i Am The End Of The Nineteenth Century; I Am Glad They Built Me Of Iron; Let Me Rust.' ... It Is Like A Passing Fool In A Crowd Of The University, A Buffoon In The Hall; For All The Things In Paris Has Made, It Alone Has Neither Wits Nor Soul.

Put You Hand Before Your Eyes And Remember, You That Have Walked, The Places From Which You Have Walked Away, And The Wilderness Into Which You Manfully Turned The Steps Of Your Abandonment ... It Is Your Business To Leave All That You Have Know Altogether Behind You, And No Man Has Eyes At The Back Of His Head - Go Forward.

Dear Grandmamma, With What We Give. We Humbly Pray That You May Live. For Many, Many Happy Years: Although You Bore Us All To Tears.

The Choice Lies Between Property On The One Hand And Slavery, Public Or Private, On The Other. There Is No Third Issue.