We White People Think That We Know

Men And Women, Empires And Cities, Thrones, Principalities, And Powers, Mountains, Rivers, And Unfathomed Seas, Worlds, Spaces, And Universes, All Have Their Day, And All Must Go.

It Is A Hard Thing When One Has Shot Sixty-five Lions Or More, As I Have In The Course Of My Life, That The Sixty-sixth Should Chew Your Leg Like A Quid Of Tobacco. It Breaks The Routine Of The Thing, And Putting Other Considerations Aside, I Am An Orderly Man And Don't Like That. This Is By The Way.

Now, After These Things Were Done, The Pharaoh And His Queen Drove Through The Hosts Of Egypt In Their Golden Chariot, And Received The Homage Of The Hosts Ere They Departed Northwards For Thebes. At Nightfall They Returned Again And Sat Side By Side At The Marriage Feast, And Once More Tua Swept Her Harp Of Ivory And Gold, And Sang The Ancient Song Of Him Who Dared Much For Love, And Won The Prize.

It Is Far. But There Is No Journey Upon This Earth That A Man May Not Make If He Sets His Heart To It. There Is Nothing, Umbopa, That He Cannot Do, There Are No Mountains He May Not Climb, There Are No Deserts He Cannot Cross; Save A Mountain And A A Desert Of Which You Are Spared The Knowledge, If Love Leads Him And He Holds His Life In His Hand Counting It As Nothing, Ready To Keep It Or To Lose It As Providence May Order.

The Great Wheel Of Fate Rolls On Like A Juggernaut, And Crushes Us All In Turn, Some Soon, Some Late