All Birth Is Unwilling.

What A Man Does In His Own House Cannot Concern The Nation.

For Nature Is Not Unjust. She Does Not Steal Into The Womb And Like An Evil Fairy Give Her Good Gifts Secretly To Men And Deny Them To Women. Men And Women Are Born Free And Equal In Ability And Brain. The Injustice Begins After Birth.

Add To This Cruelly Delicate Organism The Overpowering Necessity To Create, Create, Create - So That Without The Creating Of Music Or Poetry Or Books Or Buildings Or Something Of Meaning, His Very Breath Is Cut Off From Him. He Must Create, Must Pour Out Creation. By Some Strange, Unknown, Inward Urgency He Is Not Really Alive Unless He Is Creating.

Be Born Anywhere, Little Embryo Novelist, But Do Not Be Born Under The Shadow Of A Great Creed, Not Under The Burden Of Original Sin, Not Under The Doom Of Salvation.

The Body Was So Little A Part Of Him That Its Final Stillness Seemed Nothing Of Importance. He Was Half Out Of It Anyway And Death Was Only A Slipping Out Of It Altogether And Being At Last What He Always Was, A Spirit. We Buried The Pearly Shell Upon The Mountain Top.