We White People Think That We Know

Memory Haunts Me From Age To Age, And Passion Leads Me By The Hand--evil Have I Done, And With Sorrow Have I Made Acquaintance From Age To Age, And From Age To Age Evil Shall I Do, And Sorrow Shall I Know Till My Redemption Comes.

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.

Think Then What It Is To Live On Here Eternally And Yet Be Human; Toage In Soul And See Our Beloved Die And Pass To Lands Whither We Maynot Hope To Follow; To Wait While Drop By Drop The Curse Of The Longcenturies Falls Upon Our Imperishable Being, Like Water Slow Drippingon A Diamond That It Cannot Wear, Till They Be Born Anew Forgetful Ofus, And Again Sink From Our Helpless Arms Into The Void Unknowable.

A Sharp Spear Needs No Polish.

The Acorn Of Ambition Often Grows Into An Oak From Which Men Hang.