If I Write What My

Cut Off As I Am, It Is Inevitable That I Should Sometimes Feel Like A Shadow Walking In A Shadowy World. When This Happens I Ask To Be Taken To New York City. Always I Return Home Weary But I Have The Comforting Certainty That Mankind Is Real Flesh And I Myself Am Not A Dream.

One Must Envision The Higher Life And Behave As If It Were A Fact Before It Can Unfold.

To Me A Lush Carpet Of Pine Needles Or Spongy Grass Is More Welcome Than The Most Luxurious Persian Rug.

What Really Counts In Life Is The Quiet Meeting Of Every Difficulty With The Determination To Get Out Of It All The Good There Is.

We Have Prayed, We Have Coaxed, We Have Begged, For The Vote, With The Hope That Men, Out Of Chivalry, Would Bestow Equal Rights Upon Women And Take Them Into Partnership In The Affairs Of The State. We Hoped That Their Common Sense Would Triumph Over Prejudices And Stupidity. We Thought Their Boasted Sense Of Justice Would Overcome The Errors That So Often Fetter The Human Spirit; But We Have Always Gone Away Empty Handed. We Shall Beg No More.