The World Still Wants To Ask That

It Is As Though Nature Must Needs Make Men Narrow In Order To Give Them Force.

Thus All Art Is Propaganda And Ever Must Be.

One Reads The Truer Deeper Facts Of Reconstruction With A Great Despair. It Is At Once So Simple And Human, And Yet So Futile. There Is No Villain, No Idiot, No Saint. There Are Just Men; Men Who Crave Ease And Power, Men Who Know Want And Hunger, Men Who Have Crawled. They All Dream And Strive With Ecstasy Of Fear And Strain Of Effort, Balked Of Hope And Hate. Yet The Rich World Is Wide Enough For All, Wants All, Needs All. So Slight A Gesture, A Word, Might Set The Strife In Order, Not With Full Content, But With Growing Dawn Of Fulfillment. Instead Roars The Crash Of Hell.

I Most Sincerely Doubt If Any Other Race Of Women Could Have Brought Its Fineness Up Through So Devilish A Fire.

Education Must Not Simply Teach Work-it Must Teach Life.