The Only Hero Known To My Childhood

The Histories Which We Have Of The Great Tragedy Give No Idea Of The General Wretchedness, The Squalid Misery, Which Entered Into Every Individual Life In The Region Given Up To The War. Where The Armies Camped The Destruction Was Absolute.

Reform Is Born Of Need, Not Pity. No Vital Movement Of The People Has Worked Down, For Good Or Evil; Fermented, Instead, Carried Up The Heaving, Cloggy Mass.

We Have Grown Used To Money. The Handling, The Increase Of It, Is The Chief Business Of Life Now With Most Of Us.

You Will Find The Poet Who Wrings The Heart Of The World, Or The Foremost Captain Of His Time, Driving A Bargain Or Paring A Potato, Just As You Would Do.

... I Suppose That The Party Or Sect Which Is To Do Any Work In The World Must Breathe Its Own Peculiar Atmosphere, Speak Its Own Little Patois, And See But One Side Of The Question On Which It Fights.